


The Willow

by Avalangst



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Mentions of Past Rape/Attempted Rape, Mentions of Violence, Occasional Alcohol, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2019-06-27 17:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 71,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15689661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avalangst/pseuds/Avalangst
Summary: “Are you ready to go?” Rip stood and offered Ava a hand, which she took, grateful for a distraction from the surge of nerves that shimmered through her. She was a bit nervous, but, if she were braver and more honest, she would have admitted that she was excited too.A new city. A new time. A whole new world where she could be anyone and do anything, and kick some serious ass along the way.Ava nodded and slid the map into her pocket. “I’m ready.”Or:A dark force is blooming within the ranks of the Time Bureau, and only Agent Sharpe can stop it. Abandoned in time and left without help, it's up to her and a group of unlikely allies to restore the timeline and save their futures. But when the truth of the matter comes to light, her choice becomes clear: between the universe and the woman she loves more than time itself.Warnings are mostly for canon backstory. Each chapter summary will include what warnings specifically apply to that chapter.





	1. I See Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [guns hidden under our petticoats](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12988902) by [plinys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys). 



> Hello everyone!
> 
> This is my first fanfiction, and I have no idea how well this will go, but I was inspired by plinys' idea that Ava meets Sara before the Legends, as seen in her work in guns under our petticoats. The credit for the idea goes to her.
> 
> The title and theme of this story is inspired by "The Willow" by Jasmine Thompson.
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What? Ava, no, you’re not being fired.” He paused to pick up a manilla folder off his desk and turned it around, holding it out to her with gentle incitement. “I actually need your help with something.”
> 
> Ava let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. She still had her job. That was the most important thing. But there was a quite obvious emptiness to the room that she couldn’t ignore.
> 
> “My help, but not my team?”
> 
> “I’m afraid this is a mission of a different nature, Agent Sharpe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally two chapters, but I felt they were too short and should be combined, so if you've read this story before know that this was originally both chapter one and two.

This was the place where Ava felt at home.

Here, in front of her office windows, where the rain of the gloomy city drummed steadily down, down, down upon it, washing all that it touched in a gentle lullaby.

Ava reached out to run her fingertips along the white wooden sill, as she always did she she was lost in her head, far away from the rest of the world. It was the first thing she did when she arrived, arms filled with boxes of files and equipment, after finally earning the promotion she had been working towards for what seemed like a lifetime.

How many months, how many years had she spent, bent over old and dusty desks, working hours into the night to get to where she was now? Here, where the water ran smoothly down the clear glass, beautiful and untouchable. Where she knew what she was doing and loved doing it, because it mattered.

It mattered so much that it was sewn into the very fabric of the universe, woven into every sunrise and sunset. It shone in the stars and the sun high above, and the beams of light that struck out across the ocean, racing somewhere between the sand and the horizon.

Ava watched as a bolt of lightning split the sky, igniting the arctic blue curtains in momentary illuminescent. They were made of a light silky material that kept the glare off of her computer screen when she spent hours upon hours researching for her mission.

She had several monitors, one big and two smaller, set adjacently atop her office desk. It was built from the trademark steel that the Bureau used often, strong and slick, with several drawers in which Ava kept various binders and files filled with important details of past and present adventures.

Most of her desk space was used for office supplies and other related things, organized carefully in clearly labeled wire boxes, but Ava did have a few personal trinkets that brought a smile to her heart whenever she looked at them.

A little clay statue given to her by a young boy, Adi, that she rescued in rural India many centuries ago. A figurine of a mermaid that Ava bought in a zoo gift shop somewhere far in the future. A small scrapbook filled with pictures, taken mostly by Gary, of the various places they had traveled. That piece of chocolate Ava’s mother gave to her the day before she died.

All of these things, and a few more, Ava kept in a banged up shoebox in one of the drawers in her lounge area. To the left of her desk, opposite the door, there was space for a rug and a futon with a table across from it. The box was in the corner of one of the drawers, beneath the pillow and blanket she kept for long work nights, along with cleaning supplies, toiletries, and some of her favorite academic books.

Gary had mentioned on more than one occasion that Ava had no personal belongings. The pictures on the walls were all landscape paintings, lovely but empty, and nothing was ever kept out of place. Eventually she put a vase of fake daffodils on the table, just to prove him wrong, but even that annoyed her when she had important work that required her full attention.

Ava liked things the way they were. She liked the shine of the steel and the reflection of the blue. She loved the way it cleared her head and helped her think. Whenever she needed it, her office was always here, pristine and perfectly put together, and she felt a little bit more okay when she sat in her chair with a cup of coffee and her life’s work in front of her.

That didn’t mean that she was heartless, did it? She worked hard, that was all. She still had secrets and made sacrifices like everybody else. Nobody knew about the box of trinkets in her drawer, but it was still there, to keep her memories close to her heart when she needed them on difficult days. And recently, the difficult days were getting more and more frequent.

Just then, Ava’s pager buzzed in her pantsuit, drawing her out of her worries. Ignoring the jump of her heart, she quickly pulled it from her inside pocket and held it up to the window to read: Director Hunter’s Office, Urgent.

Ava’s heart began to race, and she nervously twittled with the clip on the back of the messenger. Rip was the flighty sort of man that could never stand to sit still; he always came by her office to talk, about new missions or technology, or even just to say hello.

If he wanted Ava to come to him, there was no doubt that something significant and likely dangerous was happening within the halls of the Time Bureau Headquarters. And as much as she hoped it was something exciting, the heavy pit that was forming in her stomach told her otherwise.

Ava hurried down the hall, past the rows of doors, the coffee lounge, and the occasional supply closest, to the open doorway to Rip’s office. She couldn’t help the thumping in her chest, or the stiff manner in which she clasped her arms behind her back, but when Rip looked up at her from behind his desk, Ava did her best to smile.

“You wanted to see me, Director Hunter?”

He was sitting back in his chair with a pen between his teeth, concentrating on something that Ava couldn’t see. His beige trench coat seemed to swallow him whole, sprawled around the edges of his skinny frame, and Ava had to knock gently on the door frame before he realized she was there.

“Ah, yes, Agent Sharpe. Please, sit down,” Rip said, motioning to the chair on the other side of his desk. He was being polite. And Ava knew him well enough to tell that his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something was very wrong indeed.

The seconds it took to cross the room felt like an eternity to Ava.

“If I’m being fired, just tell me now,” Ava said lightly, trying to hide the very real worries that were rising inside her with every passing second.

She put her pager back in her pocket when she sat down, but kept her hands in front of her, absently rubbing them together as she filled the space between sentences with all the things that could be wrong.

It was a nervous habit that she couldn’t shake, and even though she was thankfully practiced at acting professional, it tore her up inside every time. Without the Bureau, she would have nothing left. Everything she loved resided within these walls.

Rip frowned at her, and he sat up, taking the pen from his mouth and setting it down on the table.

“What? Ava, no, you’re not being fired.” He paused to pick up a manilla folder off his desk and turned it around, holding it out to her with gentle incitement. “I actually need your help with something.”

Ava let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. She still had her job. That was the most important thing. But there was a quite obvious emptiness to the room that she couldn’t ignore.

“My help, but not my team?”

“I’m afraid this is a mission of a different nature, Agent Sharpe.”

“First I was nervous, and then I wasn’t, and now I’m nervous again,” Ava admitted, wringing her hands together. “Just tell me what’s going on, please.”

Rip looked sullen, and the gravity of his words sank slowly onto Ava’s shoulders as he spoke.

“Declan Sylas has been located in 2013 Starling City. The board believes that he is going to kill Sara Lance before she can join the Legends. I want you to stop him.”

Ava nearly flinched at the mention of the name. Sylas had been a near prodigy of the agency before he went rogue. Ava had trained him herself, seeing her own hopes reflected in his bright eyes, in the way he solved every mission with gusto, in the late nights he spent up studying, almost as hard as she did.

But his curiosity regarding the Legends turned into an obsession, and then a madness that couldn’t be controlled. Ava still remembered the day he told her that if he stopped the Legends from forming, time would never be broken.

He was so enthusiastic, Ava could barely bring herself to explain that it was a necessary evil. Without the Legends, Rip would have never created the Bureau, and beyond that, scientists wouldn’t have anywhere near the depth of understanding that they had today.

The worst part of Ava’s job was having to ensure that the horrid events that kept reality in track happened. It had been years before she could even stand to stomach it. She still couldn’t bring herself to accept it so much as ignore it, and muddle through the best she could.

Maybe if she had a better grip on herself, she could have stopped Sylas before he stole thousands of dollars worth of dangerous tech and disappeared without a trace. Ava had spent night after night after night working overtime trying to find him and never once came close.

“How did you find him?” She asked, taking the folder that she only just now realized was being offered to her. The front cover was stamped with a case number, but it was sparse at best, with only a few documents inside.

Sylas’ profile. A list and descriptions of stolen goods. A series of photocopied pages that Ava recognized from his journal, with bits and pieces of his plans sloppily highlighted by Rip. Ava pulled a report from the the stack, rubbing spirals into the corner of the page with the hand that held it, while Rip pointed out a circled card number near the bottom.

“Someone used government funds to purchase an assault rifle in 2013 Starling City, from a gang leader known as The Mayor,” Rip explained.

Ava shook her head, confusion clouding her thoughts. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Sylas must know we can use his card to track him down.”

“It seems to me that Sylas gave up on sense a long time ago, Agent Sharpe,” Rip said.

Ava couldn’t argue with that. By the time he left, there wasn’t a sentence out of his mouth that didn’t relate to stopping the Legends. He didn’t listen to her or anyone else, let alone logic.

“If I stop Sylas from killing Sara Lance now, what’s to stop him from disappearing and trying again? If you’ve found a way to disable his time courier, please, tell me how,” Ava prompted.

Rip didn’t answer, and as it dawned on Ava that that look in his eyes was called sympathy, she started to put the pieces together. Sylas was a ghost. A phantom who couldn’t be traced or trapped without slipping through the ropes of the agency that he knew all too well.

His only concrete connection was Sara, who was, as far as Ava was concerned, a reckless party girl who had no business being anywhere near time travel. Even after her time in the League, she knew nothing about what it meant to do what Ava did, and her failure shattered history itself.

It would take months at least to follow this lead, to get close enough to learn his Sylas’ secrets and take him down when the chance arose. And all the while, Sara would be left to his mercy, with no warning and no way to stop it.

But of course Ava didn’t care about that. The twinge of nausea in her stomach was simply guilt, of course, guilt over not seeing the signs sooner, of not catching Sylas before he went crazy. She repeated this once, twice, three times, trying to set herself straight under Rip’s careful gaze.

Her heart ached at the thought of the young woman left alone in a dark city, and it was a sensation Ava could neither accept nor explain. It wound around the realization of what Rip was asking and bubbled up through her, bursting from her lips without warning.

“You want me to play bodyguard for the most incompetent time traveler in all of history?”

Ava knew she was out of line the minute she spoke, but she just as soon realized that she didn’t much care. Not now, when she was being asked to give up everything she loved and move to the past, to protect someone she hated. Rip didn’t seem offended; in fact, he looked ashamed.

“I am sorry to ask this of you, Ava,” he said, leaning across his desk to get level with her. Ava crossed her arms, staring at the ground while tears of anger pooled in her eyes.

Ava rarely let herself cry; it was a reaction that never failed to thoroughly piss her off. Why couldn’t she just shout and storm off like a normal person? Crying always ruined her dramatic exits anyways, so, unwilling to give in, she sat in her chair in silence.

“I need you to understand, Sara is very dear to my heart,” Rip pleaded. “I need someone I can trust to look after her.”

Ava couldn’t remember the last time anyone asked what she needed. She couldn’t even remember a time when her importance wasn’t tied to the level of anachronism she was trying to solve. Her whole life was here. Or, at least, it used to be.

Because Agent Sharpe was a high ranking federal agent of the Time Bureau, known for her brilliance and reliability. And because no matter what else was going on in her life, Rip was her friend, and her friend needed her now. There was no one else could could do this but her.

“And I’m the agent for the job?” Ava asked.

“You’re the agent for the job,” Rip confirmed.

Ava closed her eyes and focused on her senses, trying to calm herself down. She felt the cool, foamy fabric of the armrest beneath her hands, and the smoothness of the desk as she put the folder down in front of her.

The smell of coffee and polyester drifted through the open door, only slightly masking the sharp crackle of electricity that stuck to whoever had recently time jumped. She could hear the gurgle of the pots, the muffled chatter of other agents, and the gentle click, click, click of people’s shoes as they wove between departments and floors, delivering files and trading papers.

The rain still drummed steadily on the roof of the building that was her home. The place that she knew, more than anything else, she would do anything to protect.

Slowly, Ava opened her eyes, nodding at Rip with resignation. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ava sat on her office couch, listening to the whir of computers hum steadily above the still constant drum of the rain. For as long as she could remember, she had always known where she wanted to be, and what she needed to do to get there. It was a light that shone like the northern star, guiding her every waking moment.

But now, Ava didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t see beyond this new assignment. The days before her stretched like taffy into thick, suffocating anominitity, leaving only nothingness when Ava tried to imagine what her life would now be.

She had her time courier to use if needed, but constant jumping to and from to Bureau would only make it easier for Sylas to locate her. The agency knew far too little of his capabilities to be worth the risk.

Ava felt blind without the fluorescent halls and blue walls to guide her. Of course, she was perfectly capable of handling herself, but her usual missions were far more temporary than what lay before her. She couldn’t shake the worry that they had underestimated Sylas, and the weeks would turn into months, into years, without any hope of this assignment coming to an end.

“Having second thoughts?”

Ava looked up to see Rip leaning against the doorway. It suddenly registered that Ava had been sitting there for quite some time, clutching her shoebox between her hands, and heat warmed her checks as embarrassment set in.

“No,” Ava shook her head. “I just couldn’t decide if I should bring this or not. But I think I’ll just leave it here.”

“What is it?” Rip asked, crossing the room to sit beside her. He had to move the blanket that had been displaced when Ava dug through the drawer before he could sit down.

Ava shrugged, running her hands over the lid protectively. Inside were all the things she held dear to her heart, and it was a secret that made her feel safe. Like there was a part of her happiness that could never be touched, never be broken, as long as it was locked away.

“Just some old stuff I’ve picked up around time,” she said. The idea that she had a casual enough relationship with time travel to say such a thing made her smile, but it was marred by the reality of what she was about to do.

“I don’t need it. I’ll just leave it here.” Ava moved to put it back in the drawer, but Rip put his hand over hers to stop her.

“You should take it with you. What’s the harm?” He asked.

Ava didn’t want to think about it. She jumped up from the couch and set the box down beside her, brushing off her pantsuit and fixing her bobby pins. “Are you ready, Director Hunter?”

Rip pulled a folded piece of large laminated paper from his pocket and laid it out on the table before him, revealing a map. It was relatively new, but there were a few tears and scratches here and there, and the crinkling noise it made when he smoothed it out made Ava scowl.

“This is a map of Starling City, obviously,” Rip explained. The title was printed in dark capital letters near the top, against a sandy frame that bled into rough blueprints of the town. It was centered on a section of identical blocks that crossed and zig zagged in complicated ways. Ava could barely read it.

“Aren’t paper maps a bit...old school?” She asked. A holographic representation of the city would be twice was easy to use.

“Not if you want to remain undetected,” Rip said. “At least until you’ve settled down a bit.”

Settled down. The words left a bitter taste in her mouth. Ava wanted to get this mission over with as soon as possible. Like the flowers on her table, Sara was a distraction, getting in the way of her work and her life. Sylas wouldn’t even be a problem if it wasn’t for her recklessness.

She realized that Rip was waiting for her and, begrudgingly, plopped back down beside him with a sigh. She put her elbows on the table and cupped her jaw with her hands, leaning out over the map laid in front of her.

“Fine, tell me what I need to know,” Ava grumbled. Rip raised an eyebrow and she scrunched her eyes shut, only partly regretting her apathetic words. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“You don’t have to do this, Ava.” His voice was softer than she expected, served with sympathy and drizzled in concern. She didn’t want to hear it. She could handle this, no problem. She was Agent Sharpe. She could handle anything. At least, that was what she told herself when she lay awake at night, paralyzed by worry after worry after worry.

“I can do it. But this can’t be the whole city,” Ava said, motioning to the map with an open hand.  
“No,” Rip answered, “these are the Glades. It’s a run down section of the city that runs rampant with poverty and addiction.”

As he spoke, he dug in his coat for a red sharpie - Ava wondered how many things he could fit in his pockets - and traced and gangled line around a large chunk of the map before crossing out the blocks within.

“Unfortunately, most of it was destroyed in a man-made earthquake just prior to your rendezvous time. The remaining ruins were left abandoned, making it the perfect place for a hideout,” Rip said, pausing to scribble a star in a seemingly random spot.

It was in an upper corner of the sector, nearer to the rest of the city, but still tucked away behind a couple of alleys. There was no corner or street marker that Ava could look for; just one door in a hundred, set into the side of a crumbling motel.

Ava studied the map carefully, trying to make sense of it, but it wasn’t detailed enough to be any sort of real help. It was frustrating, and despite Rip’s presence, she started to feel very alone.

“I know it looks like a shanty, but I promise the inside is respectable furnished, courtesy of the Bureau,” Rip said. “There apartment beside it has been converted into a secret room, filled with everything you’ll need to find Sara and face Sylas.”

Ava allowed herself to smile. “That sounds a little secret agent-y.”

“It’s very secret agent-y,” Rip confirmed, grinning back at her. “And you can decorate it if you want. Maybe Sara can help you.”

According to regulations, Ava was supposed to minimize contact with local inhabitants, and that included Sara. But Rip had always held a healthy disregard for the rules, and it was often Ava who enforced them. She would have to erase Sara’s memories at the end of it anyways, so it wasn’t like it really mattered one way or the other.

“I really don’t think I’ll be there that long. Have a little faith, Director Hunter,” Ava teased. Sitting here, chatting with Rip about the details of her next mission, Ava began to feel more like herself, and her worries shrank down into the back of her mind.

Rip seemed to notice. He folded the map and stuck a teacher’s sticker on the back of it before handing it to Ava.

“What’s this for?” She asked, jabbing a finger at the red and orange Wow! pasted onto the paper in obnoxious bubble letters. Beneath it was the time stamp needed to jump to the address, but the sticker itself didn’t seem to serve a purpose.

Rip shrugged nonchalantly. “A rainy day.”

“It’s been raining all day,” Ava said, holding her palm up to the ceiling.

“Sara said it rains often in Starling City,” Rip said. Ava groaned. She hated the rain. It was nice to listen to, but definitely not worth giving up clear skies, sparkling sunbeams, and the gentle caress of warmth on her skin. Another reason to finish the mission as soon as possible.

“Are you ready to go?” Rip stood and offered Ava a hand, which she took, grateful for a distraction from the surge of nerves that shimmered through her. She was a bit nervous, but, if she were braver and more honest, she would have admitted that she was excited too.

A new city. A new time. A whole new world where she could be anyone and do anything, and kick some serious ass along the way.

Ava nodded and slid the map into her pocket. “I’m ready.”

She decided to bring her box with her. Rip was right, there wasn’t any harm in it, and she wanted it with her to remember how she felt now. A little bit nervous, a little bit curious; sure of her ability to do what she loved and ready to fight whatever threatened it.

Ava punched in the coordinates on her courier. While the zing of the portal opening rang out, she turned to grab her box off the futon, hugging it under one arm while she put the blanket and pillow back in the drawer and straightened the cushions.

“I like things to be orderly,” she said.

“Oh, believe me, I’m well aware, Agent Sharpe,” Rip replied, amusement flashing across his sharp features. He offered his hand to her and Ava shook it, giving him a final nod before hugging the box close to her chest.

“Until next time, Director Hunter.”

And with that, she turned and disappeared into the abyss.


	2. This Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She felt the jolt of the impact after a few steps. The wall was cool and damp and callus under her fingers, and as she rubbed her thumb across the ridges running through it, she recognized brick. It wasn’t raining now, but wetness clung to everything around her, and she shivered as a gust of wind tumbled through the alley and up her sleeves.
> 
> She had expected this. Starling City was a nefarious place even on it's better days, and the darkness and cold was no surprise to her. But the Bureau was warm and bright, and to be suddenly thrown into the wind with little warning was a shock to her system.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your comments! It means a lot to me!
> 
> I moved things around, so I hope no one gets too confused. I didn't like how short the chapters were, so I combined one and two. This is chapter two, but if you read chapter two before, this is new.
> 
> There is a bit of world building and set up here, so hang in there! I figured it was better to create the space now and use it later, instead of leaving the characters wandering in empty space.
> 
> And I promise Sara will come in soon! She should appear in the next chapter. Even though this is from Ava's point of view, their relationship is the focus of the story, so you won't have to wait too much longer.
> 
> I also plan to include Sin as much as I can, because she's adorable and seriously underused in the show. I would also like to include some of the other characters as well, such as Laurel. What do you guys think?
> 
> Please enjoy and leave a comment below if you liked it! Thanks for reading!

For a brief moment, time was endless. It swirled around Ava, reaching out in decades and centuries and thousands of years to dance like lighting around her, crackling up from her fingertips to race through her veins and set her senses on fire.

All the was once know was left behind, and a new world opened in front of her. Ava pressed the button on her courier as soon as she was through to the other side, careful not to be seen by passers by. The light of the portal disappeared with a hiss and plunged her into darkness.

It would take minutes at least for her eyes to adjust, but the last thing she wanted was to be left exposed and vulnerable to her surroundings. Ava threw herself forward, one hand holding the shoebox while the other stretched out as a brace in front of her.

She felt the jolt of the impact after a few steps. The wall was cool and damp and callus under her fingers, and as she rubbed her thumb across the ridges running through it, she recognized brick. It wasn’t raining now, but wetness clung to everything around her, and she shivered as a gust of wind tumbled through the alley and up her sleeves.

She had expected this. Starling City was a nefarious place even on it's better days, and the darkness and cold was no surprise to her. But the Bureau was warm and bright, and to be suddenly thrown into the wind with little warning was a shock to her system.

She turned to press her back to the wall and clutched the box to her chest. Ava had filled it with packing peanuts and wound everything in bubble wrap, but she was still worried that something might happen to it. She felt a bit more in control when she held it close, and now, when everything was new and confusing, she clung to it with gusto.

Ava focused on the bite of cold air as it flowed into her lungs. It was jarring compared to the heat of her office. Once, when she was young, her whole neighborhood had a snowball fight. Chasing kids through the streets for hours, the air felt just the same.

She suddenly longed for the city she left behind. The feeling grabbed her heart with sharp talons and twisted sharply, mixing with the shock of the cold. It wasn’t even her coworkers at the agency whom she missed, though she did.

She missed the little things. She missed the chug of the janitor’s cart as he pushed it through the halls and the smile on his face when she said hello. She missed the rickety creak of the elevator door and the shrill yipping of her neighbor’s dogs.

Even though it was annoying, it was real. It was familiar. And she longed for it now far more than she had expected to. Here, all she could hear was the wailing of sirens. There was no stop and go of the city. Only endless noise and endless tandem.

Ava was suddenly aware of her need to get out of sight. To get somewhere safe, at least as safe as she could be. For all she knew, Sylas had a radar waiting to detect her arrival, and was on her way to kill her now.

She still couldn’t see much. She had paused to let her eyes adjust to the light, but all the light that was there had dissipated. The cloudy canopy swirling above blocked the shine of the stars and the moon, not that they would be much help anyways.

Any streetlights that were here before would have been destroyed in the quake. There were no lights in the windows, and probably no people, either. Ava didn’t even think that the Glades got electricity anymore after the all power lines had collapsed. No one would bother to right them.

She could only see what was directly around her, and only barely. Not nearly enough to make any judgements on. The courier would have spit her out as close to her mark as it could, but it wasn’t like her door had a beacon or even a sign.

Looking to her right as far as she could see, there wasn’t much of a building left. The wall extended only a few meters before it bunched and crumbled into a mass of debris, stretching as high as the motel was supposed to go.

She could see a door flattened between a warped chain link fence and a pile of broken bricks, shattered glass, and the occasional piece of plastic or wood that had broken off in the collapse. Whatever house had been there, it obviously wasn’t anymore.

Had it been a house? Had it been a home? How many people had been left trapped under the ruins, left for dead by the people who ran this city? Ava hadn’t thought to ask. She didn’t really have a reason to. It wasn’t necessary to the mission.

But a tiny part of her mourned for the city that Sara Lance called home. A city so seemingly divided that it could be hardly be called a city at all. She wanted to find Sara, to ask her who she was and why she was here, and if she had known anyone killed in the quake.

Of course, it was entirely due to curiosity. Scientific curiosity, historic curiosity, and had nothing to do with the feeling she felt when she read through Sara’s files late at night, noting times and places as if it wasn’t a book filled with tragedy after tragedy with no end in sight and no escape from the pain.

As if her blue eyes hadn’t faded in every picture until there was nothing left but emptiness.

She needed to get inside, away from the pain and the cold. Ava turned her head left to see the glint of a metal railing against a fallen power pole, and she pushed off from the brick behind her to get a better look.

She could see a staircase, or maybe two, winding up to the next level. It looked more like an emergency fire escape than a reliable form of transportation, and there was at least one step missing, but it would at the very least get her to a better vantage point.

Ava wished she had two hands free, but she didn’t dare leave her shoebox out in the street, so she stepped carefully over the gap in the asphalt in front of her and made her way over, tucking it snugly under her left arm.

With her right she reached out and grabbed onto the rail, tugging a few times to make sure it wouldn’t come loose under her weight. She had to take the steps one by one, because a couple of them weren’t actually attached to the rest of the case, and another gave out as soon as she tapped on it, clattering to the ground below.

If this was the pace by which things were going to go, it would be forever until she could go home.

The second floor had an outdoor walkway encased by a rail that Ava didn’t trust. The cracked windows were covered in dusty grime, and where she could see through them there was only empty dark. It didn’t look like anyone lived here.

The apartment to her left only lasted a few feet before it was swallowed by the rubble. In the other direction, there were two doors at least, and as Ava went to try to first one she noticed a roughness on the knob that wasn’t supposed to be there.

Case 62-101. It was inscribed so delicately that Ava had to crouch down and press her face close to it to read. It was tiny, tucked away on the underside of the handle, but it was there. A glimpse of home, however far away she was now.

Ava moved to stand at the same moment a gust of wind rushed into the alley. It was stronger than she expected, and Ava was blown forward, smacking her forehead into the knob as her hands flew up to break her fall.

“Ow, fuck!” She dropped her shoebox when she caught herself, unintentionally flinging it into the air. Her right hand flew to her forehead while her left smashed into the cardboard lid, pinning it to the wall.

Ava didn’t realize that it had come loose until the bottom slid down the wood, landing on it's side before tipping over and spilling the contents all across the balcony.

“Shit. Double fuck,” Ava cursed. Of course she would drop it before she even got inside. She should never have agreed to do this stupid mission in the first place. At least nothing was broken, thanks to her less-than-conventional security measures.

She started picking her things up one by one and, instead of putting them back in the box, shoved them into whatever pocket was closest like a child nabbing chocolates before their parent noticed.

There were thirteen in all. When she had started the box, she only had a few, but every once and a while she traveled somewhere particularly beautiful or interesting and wanted something to remember it by. Ava counted in her head as she collected them, but she only found twelve.

The last one had to be here somewhere. The ground was cold as she sat criss cross to get a better look around. Her head was starting to ache, a gentle throb pulsing where she had hit her head. Right in the middle of her forehead.

She hoped that Sara wouldn’t ask about the goose egg that surely was forming there, but knew in her heart that the smug blonde probably would.

But she couldn’t go inside without her trinket. It was her souvenir from The Forests of Eden, a far future tourist attraction where dazzling gems of all kinds hung from trees like willow branches.

When the sun set and saffron light streamed through the canopy, they sparkled like a thousand rainbows, as if the stars themselves had come down from the cosmos to celebrate the earth.

She had stopped a time pirate from destroying the gardens there, and in return had been gifted with a little glass jar filled with crystals carved into various shell shapes. Ava remembered the unrelenting joy on the caretaker’s face every time she looked at it.

And now it wasn’t here. It must have rolled off the balcony, through the gaps in the rail and onto the pavement below, along with the rest of Ava’s dignity. She crawled forward to see if she could see it, but there was no need. A girl was standing below, holding the jar in her hand.

She was tiny, really tiny. Ava thought she looked about four feet tall. She had a dark leather jacket that fit loosely over her petite frame, adorned with bits of cheap silver around the lapels. Her black hair was wet from what she assumed was the earlier rain, but it didn’t do much difference, as no part of it grew longer than an inch or two.

She didn’t look a stranger to these shambled streets, but she wasn’t anything Ava couldn’t handle. Not that she would need to. When she saw Ava crawl over, she held the jar up, helping her to see it in the dark of the night.

“Looking for this?” The stranger’s voice was deeper than Ava expected, with a bit of a rasp to it, like she had grown up around smoke and ashes.

“Yes,” Ava answered, glad the darkness would hide her blush. She must look ridiculous. A grown woman in a business suit crawling on her hands and knees around a run down balcony in the middle of nowhere.

It suddenly occurred to her that she really wasn’t in the safest place, and a stranger had gotten a hold of her jar of jewels. “Are you going to steal it?”

There was no point in being subtle. And if she was going to have to chase her through the streets, it would be nice to at least have a warning.

But the girl smiled up at her, crookedly, but genuinely. “Nah, I’m not that desperate.”

She bent to toss it up to her, and Ava scrambled to her feet, leaning out to catch it with both hands as it spiraled through the air.

“Thanks,” she said, pressing her lips together awkwardly. She couldn’t go inside with a stranger watching her. They would know who she was as soon as she opened the door.

This stranger could be a spy for Sylas. She could be anyone. Whoever she was, she was still standing there, a frown forming on her face as she watched Ava stare back at her.

“What are you doing here?” Ava asked. She hated the awkward silence that was forming between them almost as much as the soggy atmosphere around her.

“I was just about to ask you to same thing,” she replied.

“Oh, um…” Ava trailed off. She didn’t want anyone to know why she was here, but there wasn’t any point in lying more than she needed to.

“I live here,” she admitted. The girl in the street looked unconvinced.

“You? Live there?” She pointed at the door behind Ava at the same time a scowl crossed her childish features.

Ava felt suddenly vulnerable, as if this stranger was questioning her right to be here. As if they could somehow know that she was a fraud from the start, a ghost to come and go without leaving a trace behind.

She didn’t want to be rude, but she couldn’t help herself from smoothing the wrinkles from her suit, as best as she could arounds the lumps of the souvenirs still in her pockets. The rough polyester was soothing under her hands.

“Yes, I live here. Is that so wrong?” Ava’s voice was less sure than she wished.

The girl held her hands up in defence. “Listen, lady, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just meant that most people around here could never afford a suit like that. And I’ve never seen you before, anyways.”

“It’s Emma,” Ava said. She had picked her undercover name when she first joined the Bureau, the same as all the agents. It was a lot harder to find someone when you didn’t know their name, and Ava didn’t want to give Sylas any advantages.

“I’m Sin. You new around here? Fall on hard times?” Sin asked. Sin. The name sounded familiar to Ava, but she couldn’t place it. Where had she heard it before?

“I fell on something, that’s for sure,” Ava said, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. Sin snorted, and the hard line of her shoulders relaxed, softening her features. Ava felt the tension she was holding release, and she smiled down at the girl below her. If she was a spy, at least she had a sense of humor.

“Do you want some ice for that?” It was an earnest offer, but what Ava really wanted was for Sin to go away, so that Ava could deal with her shame in solitude and get her trinkets safely inside. As impatience crept up, she began to fiddle with the lip of the jar, moving it from one hand to another and back again as she worried.

“I’m good, thanks. You can go home now, or wherever it was you were headed,” Ava said. Sin didn’t walk away, instead moving towards the staircase, hopping over the gaps in the stairs with ease.

“I live here too, actually,” Sin said, unlocking the door to the right of Ava’s with one hand and giving her an awkward with the other. “See ya around.”

Ava felt mortified. “Right. Okay. See you!” she called as Sin disappeared behind the door.

Sin, Sin, Sin. Where had she heard that before? Ava tossed the word around her head as she picked up her box and put her things inside it, trying to remember where she had last heard it. Surely, there couldn’t be that many people who shared the name.

Inside the apartment, it was like another world. The door wasn’t made of wood like she had thought, but a heavy steel painted to blend in. As Ava turned to close it, she ran her free hand down the locks that covered the length of the frame, clicking quietly as they collided. Rip had made sure that Sylas couldn’t hurt her here.

The windows had a holographic paste that disguised what was really inside. It was tiny, unsurprisingly, but nicely furnished nonetheless. The floor covered with a clean white tile that would keep out the cold and the wet of the Glades, and the walls were the trademark Bureau blue that filled Ava with bittersweet memories.

To her right was a small dining area. There was a square table built from dark wood and a set of four matching chairs. The white cushions on top had been tied on with little bows. Beyond the half wall was a kitchenette with all the basic appliances fit neatly into the space.

A silver fridge, a stove, a dishwasher, and a sink were tetrised underneath the cabinets. Ava went to put her box down on the counter and pushed her hair back from her eyes.

She could see in her reflection that it was tousled by the wind, and there was dirt smeared across her forehead around the red lump that was beginning to form. Normally she would have never allowed herself to be so unkempt, but there was no one around to judge her now.

Ava found a box of raspberry oat cereal and a bowl in the cabinets above. She didn’t have the energy for a proper dinner now. She didn’t even know what time it was. There weren’t any clocks around that she could see from where she stood. She found silverware in a basket hooked underneath the sink and wandered while she ate.

In the opposite corner, a living room was squeezed between the entrance and what Ava assumed was the bedroom. There was a corner couch running the length of the far walls, with white cushions that matched the ones on the dining chairs, and throw pillows that matched the walls.

A coffee table was set on top of a blue rug in the middle of the space. The drawers were heavy when Ava tugged on them, opening with a low rumbling noise as they slid against the tracks.

Inside, there were a few spare blankets and the remote for the flat screen television mounted on the wall. Ava put her shoebox inside and continued to the bedroom beyond.

It was big enough to fit a bed in the middle of the wall, but only just. The dresser at the end of it was filled with clothes appropriate to the era, as all of Ava’s were too futuristic to be discreet. And if she was honest, most of her wardrobe was filled with business attire. Even her dresses had been picked out with undercover operations in mind.

The closet beside the bed had a few garments hanging from the hangers, but Ava was more interested in the shoe rack on the left, which was bolted to the wall in a way that no shoe rack would ever need to be.

She got on her knees, thankful that there was no wind to blow her over this time. Here it was bright and warm, and she shrugged off her blazer, letting the stiff fabric slide down her shoulders and crumple onto the floor, leaving her in her button up.

There were four levels, each slanted a bit more, with a few pairs on each. Black running sneakers, silver flats, red pumps, and others sat along a plastic railing that Ava reached out to, sliding her hands along the smooth surface with closed eyes, focusing on what she could feel.

On the right side, away from the wall, there was a tiny button that rose up under Ava’s fingertips. It took a decent amount of pressure before it sunk down and released the rack, which swung out to reveal a code pad hidden behind it.

Ava punched in six two one zero one and sat back as the back wall of the closet started to move. Slowly, it sunk back, and then slid open to reveal the secret lair that Rip had told her about. She had to push through the line of clothes to see clearly, listening to the swish and sway of the fabric as it parted to let her through.

The metal room was about the size of the rest of the apartment, and was covered on all sides in various forms of time tech. To the right was a desk with Ava’s usual computer equipment, plus a few boxes here and there with extra security measures.

Beyond that was a rack with a couple of bo staffs and a few other hand weapons. There was a heavy trunk to the side that Ava guessed was filled with other weapon boxes and training supplies. She could look through it later, when she didn’t have a mouthful of cereal.

The back wall had a salmon ladder, a bench press, and a compact elliptical, as well as a second trunk with more supplies. The space between the two had a decent sized mat with a punching bag hanging to the side of it. That would be useful once Sara started getting on her nerves.

The left section of the room had a second desk and various piles of boxes filled with equipment, research, textbooks, and whatever else Ava might need to fight Sylas. It wasn’t comprehensive by any means, but it was certainly thorough. She had a feeling she would like it here, at least a little bit better than the dark streets outside.

She walked over to the second desk, listening to the rhythm of her shoes click against the shining silver floor. There was a familiar manilla folder on top with a yellow post-it stuck to the front, and Ava sat down on the sleek chair in front of it, her cereal set down to the side.

Ava picked it up as she leaned into the backrest, letting herself relax for the first time since she got here. It was firm, but comfortable, and she realized that her head wasn’t the only thing that was aching. She always held tension in her shoulders when she was stressed. It was a habit she couldn’t figure out how to break.

That, and her constant twittling of whatever was in her hands at the time. Now, it was the message, scrawled in messy handwriting that Ava instantly recognized.

I know you can do this. Rip.

The note was unloquacious, but it made Ava smile nonetheless. She pulled the sticky note off and pasted it carefully down in the corner of the space, intent on keeping it for rainy days, and staring flipping through the file absent-mindedly while she finished her dinner.

She was three bites in when she remembered where she had seen that girl before. The name was there, in the file, pulled out in a little biography somewhere between The Gambit and The League of Assassins.

Cindy “Sin” Foster was the daughter of a pilot who crashed and died on Lian Yu during Sara Lance’s expedition. Lance rescued Foster from attempted rape in 2012 Starling City under the guise of The Black Canary and subsequently aided her emancipation from the foster system. Lance and Foster remained friends until Lance returned to the League of Assassins in 2014.

The picture next to the text looked even younger. Ava had thought she was maybe thirteen or so, judging by her height and her face, but to gain emancipation, she would have to be at least sixteen, maybe older. And she was the only person in this city who knew where Sara was.

Of course it wasn’t a coincidence. Rip must have given her this apartment for a reason, and now she knew why. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about first impressions. Ava finished her cereal and closed the file, leaving it in its place for now. She’d be back soon.

The secret door closed with a quiet thunk, and she tugged a couple of times on the bars of the shoe rack to make sure it was locked in place before Ava went across the hall to find the bathroom at the end of the apartment.

It was a quaint little room, but nice enough. There was a countertop with a sink and a mirror on top of it, and Ava found a couple of advil in the medicine cabinet beside it. Behind her was a toilet and a shower tub, and an add on that led to a little laundry room, but right now, Ava was only concerned with making herself presentable.

She washed her face in the cool water, scrubbing gentle circles until the dirt ran down the drain. Ava pulled her hair tie free, catching the two bobby pins that came loose before they fell and leaving them on the counter.

Her hair fell in soft blonde locks over her left shoulder, which was flipped in her reflection. Her eyes look a bit tired, and a bit wild, but she was still herself. Shut in this tiny room, Ava could be anywhere.

She closed her eyes and imagined, just for a moment, that she was home and safe, and the tears that threatened to fall had no reason to be there. But they did. And so did she.

Ava opened her eyes. The fire inside them was set ablaze by her determination. She would do what it took to complete her mission. She would do what it took to get herself home again.

When Sin answered her door, Ava had only just started knocking. She didn’t look surprised, only a little confused, but curious nonetheless.

“Did you want that ice after all?” Sin asked.

Ava shook her head. She stood stock straight and clasped her hands behind her back, as she always did when she was trying to look professional and a little bit intimidating.

“I need you to tell me where I can find Sara Lance.”


	3. Pompeii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was weighted silence between them. And then, “503.”
> 
> “What?” Ava asked.
> 
> “503,” Sin repeated, her voice growing thicker with each word. “Malcolm Merlyn triggered an earthquake that leveled the Glades. 503 people died.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I know its been forever, but I promise I haven't abandoned this story. I am a college student and with finals coming up I haven't had time to work on this as much as I would like. Unfortunately there's still about two weeks to go, but once May comes updates will pick back up.
> 
> This chapter is a little bit longer that the previous ones, because I promised you would see Sara before it was through, and I try to keep my promises. This is the last little stretch before we really begin to dive into the world of pre-Legends Sara Lance and all that that entails.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you like! I love to read them!
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoy the chapter!

The color drained from Sin’s face the moment Ava spoke. Her dark eyes grew wide for just a moment, betraying shock, before confusion and fear passed over her features, and they settled in something that was supposed to be ignorance.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Sin said. Her voice was casual enough to convince someone less perceptive, but unfortunately for her, Ava wasn’t one of those people.

“I know you do. I can see it on your face,” Ava insisted. She let her hands fall to her sides, barely resisting the urge to fumble with the hem of her suit. Sin clearly saw her as a threat, but Ava let her words come softer, not wanting to push Sin too far.

She didn’t want to be a bully. Not unless it was necessary, and Ava didn’t think it was, though she was determined to get answers one way or the other. Sin was just a kid, but she was clever and quick, and probably a little bit scared right now.

She didn’t answer Ava at first. Her body was rigid in the doorway and her eyes were narrow, glaring up at Ava with caustic hostility. Ava considered the comfort and concern route, but she didn’t think it would get her very far.

How many people had promised to keep her safe, only to betray their vow? Ava felt the sting of perfidy and pushed it down as quickly as it rose. There was a reason she kept all her memories safely locked away from the world.

Their standoff was broken by Sin, who suddenly turned and pushed the door shut as quick as she could. But Ava was quicker, catching the door with her hands pressed against it and shoving her toe in the frame to keep it from closing.

“Listen, Sin, I’m not here to hurt anyone, I just want to help,” Ava said. It was only a little bit of a lie. The only person she wanted to hurt was Sylas, before he could hurt anyone else. It was a deadly cycle that seemed never to end.

Sin kept pushing, so Ava continued her cover story. “I’m with the police, but I’m not here to arrest anyone. All I want to do is talk.”

Ava felt the pressure on the door stop. A moment later, Sin’s shadowy eyes appeared through the open space held by Ava’s shoe.

“I didn’t see a badge,” Sin said gruffly.

“I don’t have it with me,” Ava admitted. She knew it would be in one of the boxes in her bunker, but she hadn’t thought to find it before she left.

“I can get it,” she continued, “but we both know Sara is more than capable of looking after herself.” She could see Sin start to soften, just a little bit, and a ribbon of relief ran through her. As long as she was careful, she should be able to get what she needed.

“Your name isn’t Emma,” Sin guessed.

Ava shook her head. “No.”

“Are you going to tell me your real name?” Sin asked.

“Are you going to tell me yours?” Ava asked, raising an eyebrow as a smirk bled into her smile. Sin had let go of the door, and it creaked slowly open, but Ava didn’t want to intrude. Still, she had to admit, it was nice to talk to a regular person.

“It’s Cindy, but only if you want to get punched in the face,” Sin answered. “Your turn!”

“Nice try. Not this time,” Ava said. It was still miserable outside, and she realized she didn’t put her jacket on when the wind howled through the alley, making her shiver. It was still on the floor beside her closet. She hadn’t planned on standing here for long.

Sin noticed and stepped away from the doorway, motioning the the sweep of her hand for Ava to come inside. From the window, it hadn’t look like anybody lived here, and even now it was still hard to fathom.

The only source of light was a couple of candles on a table shoved in the corner, which was splintering and bending at the ends. Most of the walls had been shaken loose and were falling apart, leaving only halfs and thirds and piles of wood with faded, peeling paint.

Through the gloom, Ava could hardly make out the rest of Sin’s things. There was a pile of cans and boxes that must have been Sin’s pantry, and a few dirty dishes were here and there, on a rotting counter or left on the floor.

It was difficult to tell what was useful and what was junk. Notebooks and board games sat crookedly on scratchy blankets or under piles of rubble. The whole place was covered in cobwebs and shadow.

The light flickered, and Ava’s attention went to a faded pinkish duvet crumpled on the floor. After a few moments of staring, she realized it was a sleeping bag, but it looked very old, a little dirty, and quite uncomfortable. She didn’t even have a mattress.

“Luxurious, right?” Sin laughed. She didn’t seem bothered by her poverty. Ava would have to figure out how to get her some basic amenities, at the very least, without wounding Sin’s pride.

If she knew Sara, then she was at risk, technically. Ava had no idea what Sylas was planning, and torture by grief wasn’t out of the question for a man driving mad by time. Ava knew what it could do to people who looked too closely into the heart of the universe.

And she would have no problem justifying herself to the Bureau. Her mission was to stop Sylas from hurting the innocent, and from what she could tell, Sin fell into that category. Ava reminded herself to talk to Rip about it when she got the chance.

“I’ve seen worse,” Ava said. “Don’t you get cold at night?”

“It’s not so bad, unless it rains, because the roof is more holes than actual roof. But I usually just crash with Max, or Roy, or…” Sin trailed off, suddenly unsure of revealing too much.

“Sara?” Ava offered.

Sin nodded. “Yeah.” Ava let the door shut behind her. It didn’t help much, because the window had a gaping hole in it, like multiple people had put a fist through it, or maybe a softball or two. But it did stop the wind, though Ava crossed her arms in front of her, trying to stay warm.

She followed Sin towards the table and watched as she picked up a couple of candles and set them down on the floor. Ava followed suit, helping her move their only source of warmth and light to the space between them, before sitting criss cross in opposite her new acquaintance.

“Do you know where she’s staying?” Ava asked. There was no avoiding the awkward tension that had settled between them, and Ava didn’t want to draw this out any longer, fearing that Sin would ask Ava something she couldn’t answer.

“No.” The spikes in Sin’s hair flopped as she shook her head. “I only know where she’s staying when she...goes out.”

“When she’s The Black Canary?” Ava connected the dots, treading carefully. She didn’t know how much Sin knew, or how much she was supposed to know.

Sin’s features scrunched as suspicion spread across them. “How do you know about that? The police don’t know about that. But you’re not a regular officer,” Sin amended, looking Ava up and down with something like chariness.

“I’m a federal agent assigned to work with the Starling City Police Department for a specific case,” Ava said. It was mostly true, aside from the police part. She hope she’d never have to prove that. “I’m here to ensure that the citizens of this city remain safe.”

Sin snickered, but there was darkness to the sound. “You’re too late.”

“What exactly happened here?” Ava could see the hurt in Sin’s eyes, the despair and the helplessness, and her chest ached at the sight. It was clear that the people of the Glades had been abandoned long before the quake brought it to the ground.

“You don’t know?” Sin had been playing with the fire in front of them, running her hands through the flames quick enough to avoid the burn, but, stunned by Ava’s words, placed her hands in her lap and stared up at her with piercing eyes.

Ava felt a little bit ashamed with herself. She couldn’t find it in her to meet Sin’s eyes, instead focusing her attention on a thread on her blouse that had come loose after Ava’s constant pulling at it.

She had no reason to know. She was from the future, decades in the future, chronologically speaking. There was nothing that she could have done to stop it even if she was around. But there was someone who was responsible for this. Someone who deserved to pay.

“I told you, I’m not from here. I’m just here on a case,” Ava said.

Sin only looked confused. “But it was on the news. It was all over the news, it still is. How could you miss that?”

“Let’s pretend that I’m really unobservant,” Ava suggested. “And let’s remember that I want to help.” She wanted to reach out and lay her hand over Sin’s, to offer comfort in any way she could, but she didn’t think it would be appreciated just now.

There was weighted silence between them. And then, “503.”

“What?” Ava asked.

“503,” Sin repeated, her voice growing thicker with each word. “Malcolm Merlyn triggered an earthquake that leveled the Glades. 503 people died.”

Ava was quiet as the weight of Sin’s words grew heavy in the silence. She couldn’t imagine a tragedy of that magnitude so close to home. She wasn’t even sure she knew that many people.

“Did you know any of them?” Ava asked, after the quiet settled between them. There wasn’t any reason for the question. She just didn’t want to conversation to end there, and Sin looked like she could use a friend. Sin’s voice was bitter when she answered.

“I knew all of them. In one way or another. It’s a small world, down here in the gutters.”

“Did Sara?” Ava asked. She was here to find out where Sara was, after all. It felt wrong to press the matter, like she was using Sin, which she technically was, but she needed to know. She had no idea where Sylas was or what he was up to. Sara would be the best place to start.

“I don’t know. We don’t talk about those things,” Sin said briskly. She got up from the floor in a quick jump that startled Ava and walked over to the shadows in another crumbling section of the apartment. Ava followed suit, rising more slowly. Their moment of sensitivity was over.

“What do you talk about?” Ava asked.

Sin shrugged. “I dunno. Nothing, really.” She disappeared behind part of a wall, and Ava could only see her floppy sneakers poking out beyond the end of it. She heard rustling and scraping behind the corner, but she didn’t want to intrude on Sin’s privacy.

“You must talk about something,” Ava encouraged. How much did Sin know about who Sara really was? She knew Sara was The Black Canary, that much was obvious. But did she know about the Queens, or Lian Yu? Did she know that Sara was a murderer?

Sin came back to Ava with a piece of paper in her hand, crumpled around the edges, and let it fall onto the table next to them. On it was a smudged pencil sketch of a few streets of the city Ava didn’t recognize, with street names scribbled on the sides, and an arrow pointing to a corner.

“We hang around the clock tower sometimes. If you want to run into Sara, try there.” Sin was avoiding Ava’s eyes, which wasn’t difficult, considering that Ava was nearly a foot taller than her. She stared at the floor with her arms over her chest, but whether she was angry or upset or embarrassed, Ava couldn’t tell.

“Right,” Ava said, taking the paper in her right hand and straightening her blouse with her left. She had gotten what she needed, and Sin was obviously uncomfortable with Ava’s presence. She made for the door, fighting the shiver that ran through her as the wind blew through the cracks.

“Thanks for this,” She said, hovering in the foyer. “And if you ever need a place to crash, I’m right next door.”

Sin didn’t say anything, nodding her thanks instead. Ava let her be, not wanting to press it further and scare her away. After all, she would be gone in a few months, taking her memories with her, like the wind that blew so strongly tonight.

Ava walked over to her apartment and sat down at the kitchen before looking at the map. It wasn’t really a map, just a piece of paper with a couple of streets that she didn’t recognize. It wasn’t in the Glades, but Ava couldn’t imagine The Black Canary hung around uptown.

It also occurred to her that she didn’t have a car. It wasn’t like she really needed one, and she didn’t have a place to keep one anyways. The city surely has buses, and the agency was funded well enough for any expenses that Ava would have, a lot of which would probably be cab fare.

But she didn’t think a driver would be willing to come down here, even if they could get through the crumbling streets. She’d have a walk a while until she got somewhere that was accessible by motor vehicle.

Ava returned to her closet to pick her jacket off the floor and layer it under a thicker one made for winter nights. There was a set of plain black gloves and a matching hat in the top drawer of her dresser, next to the packets of unopened undergarments, and she put them on neatly over her hands and atop her head.

She folded Sin’s map and put it next to Rip’s. She didn’t know where or if there was a flashlight around, so Ava went into the drawers of the computer desk in her bunker and found the cell phone that Rip had left for her, as well as a card. Her own phone was too easily tracked.

Guided by the light of the flashlight app, Ava left her apartment, locking it behind her with the silver key that felt cool in her hand. She still couldn’t see very far, but it was enough to navigate the chasms struck into the streets by the quake.

She followed the map as far as she could, which wasn’t much. It only lasted a couple foggy alleyways that Ava would never recognize in the light of day. The clock on her phone read ten past ten. Not too late. As Ava walked, her mind wandered, and there wasn’t much else to do.

The wind was still strong, but it didn’t bother Ava under her coat. Sara, on the other hand, would probably be cold, if she was out. Ava tried to remember from the pictures in the file what she might look like now, under guise of vigilantism.

Blonde hair, blonder than normal, pinned with a thousand bobby pins so her wig doesn’t fly off when she’s sprinting across the rooftops at three o’clock in the morning. Black mask, over black paint, over eyes so blue you’d think the sea had come to life in front of you.

Lots of leather, for little reason. Ava thought her polyester suit was hard to move in. She couldn’t imagine trying to fight in skin tight pants and a less than modest corset. Ava thought it looked uncomfortable, at the very least, but at least that one had a purpose.

The more distracted people were, the less likely they were to remember Sara. The wig, the mask, the rich black leather were all a front beneath which Sara hid away from the world, unwilling to reveal herself to anyone but Sin. Just like Ava, Sara was a ghost.

The wind was sharper here, without alleys to channel and break it, but with Sara on her mind, Ava was no longer cold. As streetlights came into view, she could imagine her there, standing on a street corner, at home in the damp and the darkness.

Ava hoped the clock tower was warm. She hoped there were soft blankets and a warm smile to greet Sara when she returned in the morning, and unwilling, Ava felt suddenly nervous. Where was Sara now? Was she in the tower or out on the street? Was she safe?

Ava continued walking, her mind wandering as she went, until she reached the closest streetlight. The black paint on the pole was chipping, but only a little, and Ava followed it upwards to see a moth fluttering around the yellow lamp at the top.

The street stretched out in the front of her, to the left and right, but not behind where she had come from. There was no potholes in the pavement or cracks in the sidewalk, and every now and then, a car whizzed by. This would be good enough.

Ava ignored the butterflies in her stomach and googled the number for whatever cab service was running in this time period.

“Hello, I need a cab at the corner of…Seventh and Elm Street, please,” Ava said, looking to the signs illuminated by the street light to her left. Not needing the light anymore, she put the phone in her inner pocket after the call and pulled out the map Sin had given her.

She had an address, and that was enough. That was all. She was used to working with locals, and other agents at the Bureau, but this was uncharted waters. Ava fiddled with the edges of the paper as she paced in circles around the lamp post, waiting for her cab to arrive.

She didn’t know what to do now. She did, logistically. But this wasn’t an ignorant citizen or a trained time agent. This was Sara Lance, infamous for destroying the very thing she lived to protect, and somehow accidently birthing Ava’s workplace in the process, after Rip, of course.

Her father was on the police force. Even if they weren’t talking, Sara used to be close to him. If she was smart enough to study under Dr. Anthony Ivo on the Amazo, then she was smart enough to see through Ava’s story, maybe more than Sin had.

She could tell her the truth, if she’d believe it. When this was all said and done, she would erase the memories of everyone involved, including Sara. But even for someone who had once called Nanda Parbat home, time travel was probably a stretch, at least for now.

From what Rip had told Ava, Sara didn’t seem like the whimsical kind. And for the past many years, her life had been out of control. Even now, she felt so far away from herself that she refused to tell her family the truth. Ava couldn’t fathom what kind of hell she must have gone through to lead Sara to that decision.

But Ava’s cab was here, and her pity party for the blonde vigilante was over. Whatever had happened to her, she was still reckless, and selfish, and probably doing more harm than good. And that feeling in the pit of Ava’s stomach would go away one way or the other.

The tower wasn’t far. From what Ava could gather by the buildings outside her window, it was sandwiched between the Glades and uptown, close enough to the action to get where Sara needed to go but far enough away to provide a safe retreat.

Ava thanked the driver and paid with her card before stepping out onto the sidewalk. At the corner of the street, where the brick buildings met, Ava could see it perched atop the cream crown moulding.

It wasn’t tall, just one floor, with big windows on either side that Ava could see. The white clock near the top ticked on, despite the fact that it was several hours off. It obviously was no longer in use, but it still looked nice enough the no one bothered to mind.

Getting up there, though, that would be a problem. Ava stood there in silence, staring up at the clock tower as her mind worked to study all she could see. Sara and maybe even Sin could probably climb up the wall and go through the window, or maybe find a nearby fire escape. Ava, on the other hand, had no idea how to get inside.

She hadn’t thought to ask. She didn’t know if Sin would have told her, anyways. There surely was an entrance inside the building below, for all the normal people who didn’t spend their time spidering up walls like monkeys.

She decided to try that one first. Ava was capable of vaulting her way up there if she needed to, but that wasn’t something she ever wanted to do if there was another option. People were meant to keep both feet on the ground, in her opinion.

Ava approached the door, casually but subtly, not wanting to seem suspicious. There weren’t too many people out at this time of night, but it wasn’t that late, and she didn’t want anyone to think she was trying to break in, which she was.

She would have to put together a kit when she got back to her bunker. Lockpicks, badge, a more complete map if she could find it. Ava wasn’t sure what she would need, but now she was regretting not thinking things through. She blamed Sara for that distraction.

The building was closed, but the lights were still on inside. Ava peered through the glass, cupping her hands around her eyes to block out the darkness of the night. It looked like some sort of city building, filled with marble desks and multiple seating areas that were all unoccupied.

Still, someone had to be inside, if the lights were still on. She knocked and waited until a janitor appeared from around a corner, coming to open the door for her.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed, Miss…”

“Officer Matthews,” Ava told the man, pushing her coat out of the way so he could see her business suit. “I think I left my phone here earlier today, I just wanted to find it.”

He was a grizzly sort of man, with wiry gray hair poking out from underneath his orange baseball cap, and a crooked way of walking that matched his crooked smile. Ava saw the twinkle in his brown eyes and smiled back, recognizing the childish cleverness of a man who was smarter and wiser than he looked.

“Don’t take too long, now,” he said, opening the door for her.

“I won’t,” Ava said as she stepped inside. “It’s just upstairs, probably. And you are?”

“Samson Taylor,” the man said, offering his hand to Ava. “Most people just call me Sam.”

Ava shook his hand, glad to see a friendly face for the first time since she arrived here. “Thank you, Sam. I’ll make it quick,” she assured him, before turning and walking briskly towards a hall to the left of the main building.

She had no idea where she was going, but she stood straight and sure until she got around the corner, remembering that she was supposed to have been here before. Luckily, there was a pair of elevators at the end of it, right where Ava guessed they might be.

Ava punched the up button, and then then number four, the highest floor. Without anything to do but wait for the elevator to rise, it was hard to ignore her nervousness. She didn’t even know that Sara would be there. What if she wasn’t? Or worse, what if she was?

The top floor had no lobby or entryway. It was just offices, some occupied, others empty, from what Ava could see through the narrow windows in the doors. She walked up and down the halls, over cheap gray tiles and peeling beige walls, until she found a door unlike the others.

There was no window, only a faded rectangle near the top, like a nameplate had been there once, but was since removed. Ava guessed it read Roof before the clock tower was built. It wasn’t likely anyone had been up here since it was abandoned who knows how long ago.

The door was stuck in the frame. Ava pushed against it, to no avail, before swinging into it with her hip. It swung open with a loud rattling sound that made Ava cringe. So much for undercover. If anyone with any sort of sense was up there, they definitely would have heard that.

“Hello?” Ava called out. She began to climb the stairs, taking her time, to listen as best as she could. She would have to remember to add weapons to the list of things she never wanted to be without again. Unless Sin was up there, which she wasn’t, listening wouldn’t do her any good.

As she approached the top of the staircase, the inside of the tower came into view. There must be another level underneath, because the stairs had brought her right up to the clock, which was at least twice as tall as her, and just as wide.

Up close, Ava could see the the details of the clock face. It wasn’t really white, but a clear, shimmering glass that reflected the oversized brick walls painted classroom cream. The black accents that ran through it created a star pattern, before fanning out to the roman numeral frame.

Beneath it was a ventilation grate. Ava could feel the wind as it gusted through, bleeding into the heating that pooled in the tower, and she let her heavy jacket slide off her shoulders. She slung it over one arm and used the other to find the flashlight on her phone.

The space was filled with bits and bobbles of steel scaffolding that didn’t have much sense to be there. Sheets of plastic hung near the walls, swaying in the breeze, and bits of construction littered the floor. Metal poles. Cement bricks. It looked like it was abandoned mid repair.

And it was empty. Ava breathed a sigh of relief. She was still alert, careful to be aware if someone started up the stairs, but for now, she was safe. Whatever she didn’t want to face with Sara, she wouldn’t have to, yet.

She let herself wander over to the clock face. The view from above was muddled by the stain in the glass, catching the light in fantastical ways that bent and shimmered in the dark. From up here, Ava could see far across the town, watching the cars whizz to and fro.

The auburn buildings spread out in blocks, growing slowly taller, slowly lighter, until they were tiny forms of skyscrapers in the far distance. Ava imagined that if she went to the lower floor and looked out the back windows, she could see well into the Glades.

“You can see everything from up here,” she said to no one but herself, caught in awe of the city spread out before her.

“Yeah, you can.”

Ava froze. She was not alone.

Slowly, she turned, trying to match the voice to a face and coming up empty. It was somehow soft and sweet and sinister at the same time, like a seductive huntress come to lure her prey into a trap. By the time Ava was around, she had one guess as to who it belonged to.

The Black Canary. There she stood, silhouetted in the light from the stairwell, and the sight of her took Ava’s breath away. She seemed larger than life in the light, despite being quite a bit short than Ava, with her back straight and her hand outstretched to hold her white bo staff, the same color as her hair, which blew gently across her face as the wind swirled around them.

Ava had seen that costume before, in pictures in Sara’s file, but none that did it justice. The tight black leather was certainly revealing, but now that Ava had it in front of her, she guessed it would be easier to fight when you didn’t have a dozen pounds of extra fabric flying around every time you turned. At the very least, it was more practical than her pantsuit, if a bit ostentatious.

And those eyes. Those eyes that Ava realized were staring at her, brighter than the sky, deeper than the sea, and probably pissed off at the intrusion. Ava’s heart began to thump in her chest as she realized she would have to say something sooner or later, and probably the first.

But she was a trained agent of the Time Bureau. Acting quickly under duress was one of the things she was known for, and she did it well. Her mind was all she needed. It didn’t take long to puzzle out that even though Sara was reckless, she was smart and clever too. There was no point in lying anyways, when Ava would erase her memory at the end of this.

“Sara. I know it’s you,” Ava confessed.


	4. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you begging for your life?” Sara sounded smug, clearly pleased to be in control again. Typical Sara Lance, always too cocky to think clearly.
> 
> “No. I’m begging for yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I need your help!
> 
> Finals are finally over and I can now work on this project on a regular basis. As such, I need audience opinion on how to run things. Two questions for you, if you please:
> 
> 1\. Would you prefer updates as soon as possible or regular weekly updates?  
> 2\. If the latter, which day would you prefer?
> 
> Please leave a comment below letting me know so I can give you what you want!
> 
> In addition, now that we are getting further into the story, it is important to note a few things:
> 
> 1\. At the time of planning, we had not yet found out about Ava's past. This story operates under the assumption that Ava is from the near future.  
> 2\. I also realize that canon Ava would know Star(ling) City, as the Time Bureau Headquarters are located there. This story operates under the instance of headquarters being in a different location.  
> 3\. I don't have a proper map of Starling City. This story is aligned with canon of Arrow Season 2, but the street names are, as they say in the business, pulled out of my ass.
> 
> This isn't my best work style wise because I wanted to get it out there are soon as possible. I hope you will enjoy the story nonetheless! Please feel free to leave a comment telling me what you thought, and if you please, answering my questions would help me out a lot.
> 
> Thank you and enjoy!

Shock, panic, despair, anger. Ava watched as emotions left the Black Canary’s face as fast as they came, watched as she struggled to make sense of what had no sensible explanation. There was no way this stranger could know who she was. And yet here they were, standing on this dark and dreary night at the top of a clock tower, with nothing but officiousness between them.

It must have been only a moment, but it felt like an eternity. The only sound between them was the wind whistling through the grate and the lulling swish of cars as they passed along the street below.

Ava suddenly wanted to call Rip, only for the sake of regaining some sort of normalcy; nothing in this place was familiar to her. No matter how many times she had heard her name or seen her face, the woman standing stiffly in front of her was a stranger. A dangerous one.

And the reason she was here. Now that she had the Canary in her sights, she knew she was safe, but that was surely not to last. As of now, Ava knew significantly more about Sara than she did about Sylas, and that terrified her. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how utterly alone she was. Well, almost alone.

“Sin sent me,” Ava blurted out. She hadn’t thought to say it, but the whole situation unnerved her. Sara had yet to move, frozen but fierce, and Ava could see the wild rage burning behind her eyes. It skittered up and down her body in nearly visible waves, across her broad shoulders, down her biceps, and continued to her feet planted firmly on the floor, ready for a fight.

Fighting was the last thing Ava wanted to do. Not that she couldn’t handle it, of course she could, but only as a last resort. After all, she was supposed to be getting on Sara’s good side, as much as Ava could. She was never fantastic at making friends.

“Sin told you about me?” Sara said. Her voice was low and rough, like gravel, but Ava could hear the hurt beneath it.

“No,” Ava shook her head, putting up her hands in a gesture of good faith. “I told her about you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Sara said.

“I know. I know it doesn’t make any sense, and I don’t know how to change that. But I do know you, at least a little bit,” Ava said. She was vaguely aware that she was rambling, and the thread that she was tugging off her sleeve hem was probably messing up her jacket, but she had Sara’s attention, and that was all that mattered.

“I know that your father, Quentin, is a police officer. Your sister Laurel is a lawyer. Your mother Dinah couldn’t stand to see their faces every day but not yours, so she left. I know that you love them. You love them so much that you can’t bare to lose them, which is why you came back. And why you’re hiding. You don’t want them to know how many people you’ve murdered.”

“I did what I had to do,” Sara growled. There was fury in her voice and ice in her veins. She still hadn’t moved, but now, angered by Ava’s words, she marched closer, somehow quiet and yet still overwhelmingly powerful.

Ava stood her ground. Sara didn’t stop until they were nearly chest to chest, boring into each other’s eyes with desperate defence, with ignorant frustration, and suddenly the need to win this fight was overwhelming to Ava. All that she had ever wanted to say, she could say now, with no one to stop her hard judgement or harsh words.

“You did what was easy,” Ava said.

“Easy? You think what I went through was easy?”

“I think you did anything Nyssa al Ghul asked without a second thought.”

In a split second, there was a sharp pressure on her chest, and Ava was stumbling backwards. Her pulse thumped and her head throbbed as a loud clang echoed through the tower. Dull but constant pain began to radiate from just above her neck.

If her hair was in its usual bun, she would have been protected, but there wasn’t anything now to stop her from slamming her head into a bit of the scaffolding that Sara had thrown her into at the mention of Nyssa’s name.

She was standing where she had been before, but a shining dagger was in the hand not holding her bo staff. Sara held it out defensively, close enough to be useful, but extended so the blade caught the light coming through the clockface and reflected it back into Ava’s eyes. In the Tibetan desert, it would be blinding.

Ava moved to shield her face with her forearm, wishing more and more that she had brought some sort of weapon.

“I’m not from the League,” Ava explained quickly, keen on not getting stabbed. “I’m from the future.”

Silence settled between them. Then, “You expect me to believe that?”

“No. But it’s the truth and it's all I’ve got. Let me go and I’ll prove it.” Ava was sure that proof of her words wouldn’t be difficult to find, considering she had what was basically a very thorough essay of Sara Lance’s entire life up until five years from now. And Rip could always help her if she needed it.

It was hard to tell what Sara was thinking under her mask. It was meant to hide her identity, which maybe worked for strangers, but it was no great concealment. It just made her difficult to read, although taking the mask off probably wouldn’t help, considering Sara’s personality.

“Are you begging for your life?” Sara sounded smug, clearly pleased to be in control again. Typical Sara Lance, always too cocky to think clearly.

“No. I’m begging for yours.”

Sara dropped her dagger just an inch, enough to fall out of the light. No longer needing to shield her eyes, Ava wanted to find something to fumble with, to channel the adrenaline that was quickly turning to anger and anxiety. But the last thing she would do was reveal her nervousness to the woman in black standing in front of her, equal parts confused and pissed off, but no longer directly hostile.

Ava was overwhelmed with the urge to escape. She needed to get somewhere safe, somewhere she could control, and get her bearings as to what had just happened between them. And find some ice for her head.

She started towards the door, knocking Sara’s shoulder when she didn’t move out of the way, and stopped at the top of the stairwell without turning around. “Where’s the nearest Target?”

“What?” Sara asked. Clearly she hadn’t been expecting that question, of all things.

“Walmart? CVS? I just need a general store,” Ava said.

“Oh. There’s a shopping center a few blocks left, I think.”

“Thanks, Sara.” Ava hoped it would irk her to be reminded that she knew The Black Canary’s secret identity. She hurried down the stairwell and back out into the lobby before she could turn around and start another fight.

Though she had a hundred new things on her mind, she had only been up there for a few minutes. The janitor was still standing by the door, mopping a corner of the industrial tile. He looked up when he heard Ava approach.

“Did you find it?”

“I did!” Ava said, pulling her phone from her pocket to show him. “Thank you, Sam.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, pulling the door open for her. “Now get on home and out of this weather.” His smile was wide, and he was missing several teeth, but that only added to his somehow whimsical charm.

“Take care of yourself,” Ava told him, smiling back. He agreed with a nod and an mm-hmm, and Ava thanked him again before scuttling out into the night, returning her phone to her pocket so she could use her hands to pull her heavy jacket over her blazer.

The heavy jacket that she realized she didn’t have. It had been on her arm, and then it wasn’t. She must have dropped it during her...encounter.

Now she was pissed and cold. The temperature would only drop more as the night went on, and the thunder rumbling in the distance meant that the wind wasn’t letting up anytime soon. With her luck, it would probably start raining again before she could get back to her apartment.

She stood on the sidewalk, trying to gather her thoughts. Everytime a car whizzed by her hair blew everywhere, and the throbbing in the back of her head was starting to measure out to a consistent pain. Sara Lance was a literal headache.

Ava gathered her hair best she could and tucked it into her collar, trying to keep it out of the way. But it wasn’t like it did her much good. She was significantly grumpy, and the nearest source of relief was several blocks away, down a still soggy sidewalk, with brick buildings that looked just the same as the next on one side and a decently busy street on the other.

The more she stared, the more the lights blurred together. Windows, street lamps, and tail lights all turned into fuzzy yellow blurs dancing in the night, but Ava didn’t realize that until she nearly fell sideways from the dizziness that had struck her. Maybe she hit her head harder than she thought.

With no other choice, she began to walk, hoping that by “a few blocks” Sara meant two or three, not six or seven. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone now, so she added the only two contacts she regularly used, Gary Green and Rip Hunter, into her phone and dialed the latter.

“Hello?” Rip answered halfway through the second ring.

“Sara Lance stole my coat, gave my a concussion, and sent me wandering down a random street in the middle of the night. And I’m pretty sure it’s going to rain soon. Again.” Ava was vaguely aware that she was whining like a child, but she was too irritated to care. Rip, on the other hand, was laughing at the other land of the line.

“She’s awful!” Ava said, listening to him chuckle as she started down the path, huddling as best she could in the cold.

“Sara is...difficult to know. How did she give you a concussion?”

“She thought I was with the League and pushed me into a scaffolding pole, I think,” Ava explained.

“And she stole your jacket too?”

“I don’t know if she stole it, I wasn’t paying attention. I was more worried about the assassin standing in front of me with a dagger in her hand.”

“Yes, well, she does tend to do that, doesn’t she?” Rip agreed. “You’re not still with her, are you?”

“No, I’m headed to the store to get an ice pack. And maybe some things for Sin, if I can find it. You never told me Sara was psychotic, by the way.” Ava crossed to the next block with the permission of the little green man, who probably had a proper name, but Ava had never bothered to learn. Most time periods were either too early to too late to have automated crosswalks.

“She’s not. She may be impulsive, but she’s not crazy. I’m sure she wasn’t expecting a time a time agent from the future to warn her about another time agent from the future who is trying to kill her,” Rip said.

“I haven’t gotten there yet,” Ava admitted, taking big steps to hurry her walk. She was meaning to tell Sara about Sylas, obviously, but she hadn’t gotten the chance.

“What?” Ava cringed at the judgement in Rip’s tone. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Not yet! Rip, I only got to time traveller before she pulled a knife on me. She has to believe me before I can tell her, otherwise she won’t take me seriously.”

“I trust you have a plan to rectify that?”

“I do,” Ava said. “I just need evidence to support my claim. You can’t dispute facts,” Ava said.

“Well you better do it quickly. We still don’t know anything more about Sylas, his technology is just too advanced,” Rip said.

“You will. Just keep looking, and I’ll do the same.” Ava crossed a second street that was less busy and more serene. There were bits of greenery and decor here and there, and in the distance she could see a tall beige sign with the names of different stores on it.

“Rip, I have to go. I’ll call you with any new developments,” she said.

“Good. And be careful, Ava. Even without Sylas, Starling City is a dangerous place to be alone.”

She waited for him to hang up, not wanting to surrender the comfort of familiar company. By the time he did, she was standing at the foot of the sign, which was made of cream colored brick and did indeed have several stores listed underneath the words “Starling Shopping Center” arranged in a concave at the top.

Ignoring the most unoriginal name ever, she noted that there was both Walmart and Target beyond the road and cut across the paver to the street beyond. It was a decently sized space, not upscale but not poorly made either.

It went on for further than she could see in the dark, but the red glowing Target sign was stuck on the side of the building just to her right. There were cars here and there, but being so late on a Sunday, it thankfully wasn’t crowded. Ava went around to the front and walked through the automatic glass doors into the heated store.

There was a soothing familiarity in the bore of shopping for things that she needed but weren’t in the least interesting. It was like filing papers at her desk. She knew what to do and how to do it, and when it was done right she would be satisfied for the day. Nothing to worry or fuss about.

After finding a couple of ice packs to put in her carry cart, she wandered over to the camping isle. She wanted to wait to go properly shopping until she had to time to make a comprehensive list of things she needed, but she might as well pick up a few things for Sin while she was here, and could pass it off as a thank you for helping her find Sara.

The question was how much she could get away with giving her before she looked suspiciously helpful. What was most important for someone who was essentially homeless?

She ran down to the office isle to get a clear storage bin with a snap on lid, almost as big as the hand cart, before returning to the camping isle to pick out an air mattress that was blown up by hand, since Sin didn’t have electricity.

Ava wandered around the store, picking up things that would be the most useful according to Google. A proper bed set to go with her mattress, colored red like her sleeping bag. A few battery powered lamps and battery packs to go with it.

In the clothing isles she found a packet of underwear, a packet of socks, and a few simple bras. Ava also added some shampoo, conditioner, soap, and a packet of toothpaste and toothbrushes. It occurred to her towels might be useful, and sanitation wipes, since she probably didn’t have a shower or tub with clean water readily available.

On her way to the checkout she picked up pads, tampons, and toilet paper, as well as some water bottles and cans of non perishable food. She went to the self checkout so she could scan the box first and then the items one by one, stacking them in the most space efficient way she could.

It was a tight fit, but there was no one better at organization and efficiency than Ava. She tetrised everything together, pressing the packages down to make room for the rest, and locked the lid down to make sure everything would stay. She stuck the ice packs on top of the bin, got some cashback from the register, and hurried back out outside to catch a cab.

“Seventh and Elm Street, please,” Ava said. She watched the city go by outside her window, trying to remember the landscape the best she could. She would probably frequent these streets more than any others.

Thankfully it wasn’t a long drive, but the auburn buildings looks relatively similar to one another. There weren’t many landmarks, aside from the clock tower and the shopping center. Only the corner where she got out and the darkness beyond.

Ava wandered back the way she came, tracing her steps the best that she could. It was easier to know where she was now that she was a bit familiar with the Glades. She didn’t know much, just the alleys she passed to get out, but it was easy to remember the particularly wide split in the earth, the rubble pile with the fake daisies at the top, the pipes that had been bent into an x shape by the quake. Out here, walking alone, there wasn’t much else to think about.

The pace of life in Starling City was quickly becoming clear to her. When Sara was around, it was jarring. It was fast and jagged, cutting deep and bleeding restlessly, seeping into all that was around it. It brought a thousand questions and zero answers.

When Sara wasn’t around, life was boring. Slow and dark and rainy, apparently. Ava felt the first drops fall upon her skin as she approached her housing complex. It almost made her want to see Sara again, purely for the adrenaline the she was used to. Just for that, of course. No other reason at all.

She put the ice packs down on the kitchen table and then walked back over to Sin’s door, balancing the box between her thigh and her hand so she could knock with the other. There was no point in putting off what would inevitably be an awkward conversation.

Sin answered with a perplexed look on her face. Ava couldn’t imagine that she had had many visitors down here.

“Didn’t I just get rid of you?” She was cold, but not hostile; Ava breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yes, but I wanted to give you this,” Ava said, holding out the box to her. Sin didn’t take it.

“I don’t need handouts,” she said.

“It’s not a gift. It’s payment,” Ava argued.

“For what?”  
“Information. I found Sara. Now take it, please, it’s heavy and I’ve been holding it for a while.”

Sin snorted, but she did take it after a moment of hesitation. “She didn’t try to kill you?”

“No,” Ava said, shaking her head, “she only tried to stab me, so I guess I got off easy.”

“Yeah. Well, thanks for this,” Sin said, retreating into her apartment. The rain was starting to pick up, falling in fat drops upon Ava’s hat.

“Don’t thank me. You helped me with Sara. Anyways, I’ll see you around.” Ava left Sin to her own devices and hurried back to her own apartment before the rain really started. Inside it was warm, but the contrast between outside and in was something that she still wasn’t used to.

She put the ice packs in the freezer and took a couple of Advil from the medicine cabinet before heading to the bunker. If there was evidence to be found, Sara’s file would be the place to start looking for it.

It was sitting where she had left it, on top of the second desk against the left wall. Rip’s post-it note had come unstuck from the surface, but it didn’t bother her as much as it could have. She felt better knowing that she could call him whenever she needed to.

Anything that Ava knew about Sara’s past could be explained too easily. She’d have to find something from the future, something that wouldn’t take too long to come true. The sooner the better.

She flipped through the papers, past her teen years, the island and all that came after, until she reached Sara’s first return to Starling City. Ava squinted through the pain of her head, which had only gotten worse under the harsh lights of the only electrified apartment on the block. It was throbbing again, but the Advil would kick in soon, and this was more important.

There were a couple of minor parties, which was unsurprising, considering Sara’s acquaintances. Even though no one knew she had returned but Sin, Sara had come back to check on her family. That meant tailing Laurel wherever she went, and Laurel usually ended up with Oliver Queen.

Nothing of significance came up, until Quentin’s name began showing up, associated with another that Ava had never seen before. The Dollmaker.

Barton Mathis, known criminally as “The Dollmaker,” was a serial killer known for suffocating young women via an hardening substance injected into their throat and subsequently modeling the petrified corpses like dolls. Mathis was previously captured by Detective Quentin Lance, but escaped when the Undertaking (The Glades Earthquake) opened a section of Iron Heights Prison, Starling City, at which time Mathis returned to serial killing. He was captured with finality on October 21st, 2013 by Detective Quentin Lance with aid from The Black Canary, following Mathis’ murder attempt on daughter and sister Laurel Lance in his bunker underneath 182 Washington Drive.

October 21st. According to the date on Ava’s phone, that was tomorrow. All she needed to do was get that address to Sara before then and she would have her proof. Unwilling to waste time, Ava grabbed the post-it note and blacked out Rip’s note before flipping it over and finding a pen in the closet drawer.

She wrote 182 Washington Drive in clear, large letters, and her new number underneath. The walk and then the drive back to the clock tower felt quicker this time. Ava doubted that Sara would still be there, but it was the best place to start.

But when she climbed up the adjacent fire escape, through the east window, and up the stairs, Sara was still there. She was sitting cross legged on the floor with her bo staff laid across her lap. She didn’t look up, but of course she knew Ava was there. Still, she didn’t move until Ava spoke.

“Don’t you know better than to remain stagnant after being compromised?” Ava asked.

“You said you had proof,” Sara said, a crooked smile spreading on her face. She shrugged. “I was curious.”

“Curiosity? That’s your reason for violating protocol?”

“Protocol is more of a loose suggestion in Starling. Did you get it?” Sara pulled her bleach blonde hair to the side and out of her eyes, to better see Ava, who was standing just before the window. But Ava had no doubt that she could be up and fighting at a moment’s notice.

“I did.” She pulled the note from her pocket, clearly as she could, as not to cause alarm. She could see Sara’s eyes scrunch in scrutiny underneath the black, but she took it, listening to Ava explain.

“Read it now, but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to understand.” And before Sara could query further, Ava grabbed her jacket off the floor beside the scaffolding, turned, and fled through the window in which she came, fleeing back into the dreary night.


	5. Riptide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m fine,” Ava said.
> 
> “That’s not what I asked.”
> 
> “Well, that’s what you’re getting. Sara should know about Sylas by the end of the night. Tomorrow at the latest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your comments! It means a lot to me and I very much appreciate hearing your opinions.
> 
> I know I said I would be updating more often and then promptly dropped off the face of the earth, and for that I apologize. I was searching for a job but I did get hired so that won't be a problem anymore. And just in time! Who is excited for Pride Month?
> 
> This chapter is a bit of a filler to get from one point to another, but there is a good bit of Avalance bickering for those who enjoy that. Enemies to lovers means they have to start out at odds, but have no doubt that there will be plenty of fluff in later chapters.
> 
> Most of you said that updates as they come are preferred, so that's what I'm going to do. I know not everyone agreed, but I think that this will work best for now and hope that you all understand.
> 
> I have another question! Would you mind the story switching to Sara's point of view for some of the chapters or would you prefer to stay with Ava? Some of the plot coming up is more focused on Sara, so it would make more sense to follow her for a while, but sometimes point of view switches are annoying so I wanted your opinion.
> 
> It means so much to me that you read and comment! I'm glad that you guys are enjoying the story and I hope I don't let you guys down.
> 
> Thank you and enjoy! Happy Pride Month!

Ava sat upon the edge of her bed and listened to the sound of the rain falling steadily upon her roof. It was just the same as that morning, when it fell in sheets down the sides of her office, yet here it sounded so different than it had before.

When she was with The Black Canary, time passed quickly and slowly all at once, as if it bent to her very will. But now, she was alone with nothing to do but wait, and the emptiness around her was increasingly hard to bear.

It wasn’t that she felt particularly upset in any way, just...strange. The way you visit somewhere new and a part of you changes, just enough to notice. Not enough to understand. With nothing to do but wait until tomorrow, Ava was struggling to keep her mind tethered to the ground.

She could see her still. Sara, sitting simply on the floor of the clock tower, still clad in her Black Canary costume and yet somehow softer. Younger. Ava knew it was an act. The woman lived and breathed deception and deceit, everything that was in Sara’s file told her that. And yet...

She was infuriatingly good at it. With her hair swept to the side, falling in waves around her freckled face. Outside the storm clouds rolled like the sea and covered the city in a thick gloomy haze, but the light from the stairwell was a warm yellow, and the diamond fractals that reflected from the clock face made her glimmer.

It was almost welcoming. A place to hide from the rain, bathed in a saffron glow, with nowhere else to be in the world and no one to know where you are. But such things weren’t meant for people like Ava. She had a mission to complete, a purpose to fill, and that was what mattered in the world. There wasn’t time for anything else. And as for Sara...Ava couldn’t imagine there was a day that Sara didn’t have a target on her back.

It was a jarring contrast to where she was now. Bureau blue walls, expertly painted just a little too well. No pictures, no decorations. A standard bed with moderately soft comforter. A dresser filled with clothes that weren’t even hers. And a closet that was primarily a facade.

She was tired of staring at it. Shrugging her blazer off, Ava folded in into a neat square and put it down beside her to deal with later. Crawling around on her closet floor was not her favorite way to get into the bunker, but for now it was the only way.

She sat down too hard in front of her computer desk, and the jolt to her head sent an aching spike through her. Now that the medicine had kicked in the pain was dull, but it obviously wasn’t going away any time soon. Ava knew that she probably should be resting, or at the very least not staring at a screen, but there was no way she could sleep without doing absolutely everything she could to fulfill her mission to the fullest.

Ava pressed the power button on the console and then closed her eyes, gently massaging her temples as she waited for it to boot up. It wasn’t helping much, but at least it gave her something else to focus on.

It was a seperate computer system protected by top security measures, but it was still linked to Ava’s system at the Bureau. Sylas could find the signal if he knew what to look for, but it was worth the risk to hold on to what she could of what she considered to be home.

Ava logged in and created a folder titled Case 62-101 before opening a word document and writing down everything that had happened between her arrival and now. It wasn’t much, but she felt better knowing everything was documented, for the sake of thorough records.

She had a growing suspicion that she was procrastinating going to bed. She didn’t exactly know why. Sleep was a frustratingly unavoidable part of a productive lifestyle; as much as she hated to admit it, sleep deprivation was just as detrimental as oversleeping, if not more.

And yet this place seemed haunted somehow. Not literally, obviously, that was ridiculous. But the more Ava thought about it, the more she desperately missed the familiar routine of being at the Bureau from dusk until dawn, all of the good missions, and all of the bad. Her perfectly arranged apartment with everything she needed to do things the way she liked to.

Here there was no routine at all. Routine. The word rattled around in her head as she saved the document and shut down the computer before going to triple check the locks on the door. Part of her wanted to devise one as soon as possible, but another part knew that meant giving up the hope of returning to normal life with brevity. Whatever else Ava was prepared to do, she wasn’t prepared to do that.

The shower was blissfully warm. It was by no means luxurious, but after being blown around all night, Ava wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. The water felt good on her muscles, her aching head, and her heavy heart.

There were towels in the closet and pajamas in the dresser, but no other excuses to be found. She found a white silk button up and matching pants, thin enough to be cool, but warm enough to sleep comfortably as the heat began to wane.

Ava set an alarm for exactly eight hours and ten minutes from now. The bed felt just like the ones in hotels, plush but unfamiliar, but she fell asleep quickly after the day she had. In her dreams she wandered the streets of the Glades alone, unable to find Sara, searching and searching to no avail until her very soul crumbled into the rubble of the dark and frozen streets.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Morning was not a welcome affair. The advil had long worn off and just as Ava had feared, her head was pounding worse now. The blaring alarm shot daggers into the swollen bump above the nape of her neck, and she scrambled to turn it off as quickly as she could.

That didn’t help much. As soon as she sat up the world started spinning and a wave of nausea twisted her stomach into knots. She was glad she hadn’t eaten anything since last night, but she crawled to the bathroom anyways, not keen on vomiting all over her new carpet. She didn’t come back until the ring of her cell phone made her wince.

She was too dizzy to read the caller id without running to the bathroom again.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Ava.” Rip sounded much more put together than Ava felt. Then, there was the slight rustling of fabric, and a squeaky voice from somewhere behind him said, “Is she dead?”

Of course.

“Gary?” Ava hissed into the phone, rolling over to lie back on the floor with her hands covering her eyes. “Why would I be dead?”

Ava always ended up dividing her missions into threes. One part of her attention was focused on the task at hand, one part kept Gary out of trouble, and the last part kept Gary out of trouble from himself. His competency as an agent was decorated by his…enthusiastic...personality.

There was a crinkle as Gary took the phone from Rip and started talking into it far too loudly for Ava to bear. “Rip said-”

“Gary, shh!”

“Sorry.” Gary paused only long enough to lower his voice to a whisper before blundering on. “Rip said you got a concussion on your secret mission.”

“It’s fine, it’s just a headache,” Ava lied. There wasn’t any point in worrying Gary, who meant well but always blew things out of proportion. It wasn’t like she had fainted. Although now that she thought about it, maybe sleeping was a bad idea.

“When are you coming back?” He asked.

“Soon. Is there a reason you called, Gary?”

“No. I mean, I didn’t call, Rip did, I just wanted to talk to you. Did you know that Richardson is in charge of the team while you’re away? His beard is like three feet long and this one time-”

“Gary!”

“Oh, right, sorry. Bye, Agent Sharpe.” The line went quiet for a moment, and then Ava heard it get passed to another hand.

“Did you find something on Sylas?” Ava asked.

“Not yet. I was calling to find out if you’d seen a doctor,” Rip said.

Ava was immediately irked. She was completely fine, just a little dizzy, and little nauseous, a little set back by the pounding in her head. But she could handle it, like she handled everything else. Alone and with excellency, thank you very much.

“I’m fine,” Ava said.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Well, that’s what you’re getting. Sara should know about Sylas by the end of the night. Tomorrow at the latest.”

“Good. And I would advise you to take care of yourself in the meantime, Agent Sharpe,” Rip inisted.

All Ava could manage was a “Mmm hmm,” before she set the phone down beside her and curled up on the floor, quickly falling into a hazy sleep that lasted until late in the evening despite her not meaning to, when an insistent banging drew her from her slumber.

Bang, bang, bang. She could hear the locks rattle as someone pounded violently on her apartment door. It stopped for a moment, and then started up again, steady like the ticking of the clock in the clock tower.

Bang, bang, bang.

Bang, bang, bang.

At first she had been annoyed at being woken up, but as the haze of sleepiness receded, Ava realized there was someone very aggressive trying to get into her apartment. The sudden panic pulled her to her feet and, upon noting that she was thankfully no longer dizzy, made a beeline for the bunker.

Best case scenario: Sin. Worst case scenario: Sylas. Ava didn’t take long, just long enough to hide her collapsed bo staff in the waistband of her pajamas and load her Bureau-issue handgun. On her way out she grabbed her time courier, which she had stashed in one of the drawers, and put it in her pocket.

But that was just a last resort. If it really was Sylas, Ava was prepared to fight - for herself, the Bureau, and the people of the Glades, who were growing on her at an alarming rate. She steadied herself, unlocked the locks, and pulled the door open just enough to peak through.

She had been wrong. Worse case scenario: Sara Lance.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ava asked. She felt slightly relieved, against her will, but for all she knew Sara was angry and had come to make it known.

She wasn’t in costume, but it didn’t make much difference. With her thick black hoodie and dark pants, she clearly didn’t want to be seen. Technically, she wasn’t meant to be alive. Ava could see the stains at the corners of her eyes where Sara had failed to wipe off the black paint she wore underneath her Black Canary mask. She must have come in a hurry.

“I could ask you the same question.” Her voice was softer now, just slightly, but painted with exhaustion and worry that would have made Ava concerned, if she cared. Which she didn’t.

“How did you find my apartment?”

“Sin.”

“I gave you my number for a reason,” Ava said, still peering out from the crack in the door. She thought a hidden apartment teched out to the aces might be a little too much to handle right now.

“You really expected a phone call? After what you did to me?” She was glaring at Ava with a storm in her eyes, but Ava wasn’t having any of it. She didn’t owe Sara anything. In fact, Sara owed her and rest of the world for what she would do in the years to come.

“I didn’t do anything. You should be thanking me for helping you. And you can’t come in.”

In a flash there were hands against the door, pushing it open just the smallest bit more, and Sara slipped inside. Ava reacted quickly, wrapping her hand around Sara’s elbow to get at a pressure point, but Sara went for Ava’s wrist, and both women scrambled for the upper hand.

Intertwined, Sara had Ava backed against the door, but Ava had a grip on the weak spot on Sara’s forearm, and neither had enough of an advantage to win or enough dignity to bow out. It resulted in the two of them pressed chest to chest, just slightly on edge, but before Sara could do anything else, Ava had a gun to her head.

“Is that right?” Sara sneered.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Ava pressed the muzzle harder into Sara’s temple, but she didn’t seemed bothered by it.

“You can’t shoot me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m in your future.” Sara held up Ava’s note with a look so smug it nearly made Ava’s blood boil. All she wanted to do was prove who really was in charge here, but before she got the chance there was a second knock at the door, significantly less angry than the first.

Sara and Ava looked at each other in query, before Ava shoved her off and turned to open the door again.

“Sin?”

“What the hell are you two doing? It sounds like a herd of horny cats over here.” She was standing with her hands on her hips, all black leather and spikey hair, which was difficult to make out in the dark of the night. Ava briefly recalled it had been storming the night before, but it didn't look to be actually raining now, just damp.

“Well, we're just…” Ava glanced back at Sara. She was standing to her left, in the space between the open door and the wall, with a frown on her face and her arms crossed in front of her.

“We’re working together,” Ava continued. “Independently.” She didn't want either of them getting the wrong impression.

“I'm not gonna kill her, if that's what you're worried about,” Sara said.

Ava snickered. “Speak for yourself.”

“Well, at least I have a decent sense of fashion,” Sara taunted, looking Ava’s pajamas up and down.

Ava wasn't about to let her win again. “Well, at least I don't look like -”

“Guys! Cut it out,” Sin scolded, as if she was not the youngest of the three.

Ava sighed. Clearly, she was letting Sara get the best of her. Stepping back from the door, just a little too far into Sara’s space to be comfortable, she motioned for Sin to come in, who had in the time since their argument realized that Ava’s apartment was not what it should be, and was standing on the balcony with her mouth open.

“Come on in, Sin.”

“Wait, why?” Sara asked.

Ava turned to face her. “What do you mean, why?”

“She doesn't need to know,” Sara said, lowering her voice. She looked sideways at Sin out of the corner of her eyes.

As soon as Ava realized Sara didn't want Sin to know, she was all for it. “Why not? She knows about you.”

“She knows about the Black Canary and my family, that’s all.”

“Oh, so she doesn’t know that you -”

“You keep your mouth shut!”

“Guys! I said stop!” Sin shouted. She stepped between them, her hands up as a barrier to stop a full fledged fight from breaking out. “Seriously, what is going on?”

Ava found herself looking to Sara, and the warning that blazed in her eyes. She was furious, but beneath that Ava could see real fear that she couldn’t quite explain. What could the infamous Sara Lance ever be afraid of? She never saw past her own ego.

But that wasn’t important now. What was important was the promise she had made to Rip to tell Sara about Sylas, and beyond that, as much else was necessary for her and Sin to know. In some strange way, she felt that she owned them that.

“Come in, and I’ll tell you.” With a final scalding glance at Sara, Ava led them to the sitting room across from the kitchen, motioning to Sin to lock the door after she shut it. While the other girls sat down, Ava went to the bunker to get the early pages of Sara’s biography from her file.

She only pulled up to Sara’s present, not wanting to reveal her future prematurely, but Ava thought Sara might need a bit more convincing. She planned on only showing her if it was necessary, but when she returned she was distracted by the sight in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Ava asked, watching as Sara rifled through her shoebox. She had lasted about two seconds before getting bored and going through Ava’s drawers, apparently, and now all of Ava’s most precious things were in her careless hands.

“Hands off, Lance, who said you could touch that?” Ava marched over and wrapped her hands arounds Sara’s, who was clutching the box tighter now that she knew it bothered her.

Ava kept her hands where they were, entirely because the cardboard box was delicate and she didn’t want to break at, and not at all due to the thrill of electricity that ran through her at the touch of the blonde assassin.

Sara didn’t seem to mind. She stared back at Ava with what could only be described as glee, clearing reveling in anything that made Ava uncomfortable. And she was right; Sara’s Barbie pink smirk and smug expression infuriated Ava in a way few things did.

“Let. Go. Now.”

“Make me,” Sara taunted, leaning in closer.

“Do you think that I won’t?”

“Sara,” Sin said, “maybe you should give her a chance.” Ava had almost forgotten she was there, sitting as quiet as she was, sitting on the outside of the two blondes. She sounded concerned, and Ava could tell by the crease between her eyebrows that she was probably increasingly confused. They were waiting for an explanation, after all.

Sara let go of the box with a huff, and Ava set it gently on the table beside her, gathered the souvenirs that Sara had taken out before putting the lid carefully on top.

“Okay,” Ava said, “listen closely.”


	6. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara and Oliver climbed up the wide, crooked branches, holding each other as they went, up high enough to escape the waters, but low enough for the wide weeping billows to keep them dry from the persistent rain. Together they watched the raindrops fall upon the sky like tears of the gods, snuggled close to stay warm in the night.
> 
> They were incredible dumb. They were extraordinarily reckless. And they were utterly, agonizingly free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I have a few things to tell you:
> 
> Firstly, this story has been moved! If you notice me talking about comments that aren't there, that's why.
> 
> Second, my hiatus is officially over! I'm still a little bit sick, but I've reached the point that I can continue writing. Expect somewhat regular updates from now on unless otherwise notified.
> 
> This chapter is from Sara's point of view and picks up a little while after the last chapter ended. It is mostly inside her head and is a lot darker than previous chapters. Warnings for brief mentions of alcohol and violence.
> 
> Ava is unfortunately not in this chapter, but I promise she will be back soon. This chapter does mention Sara and Oliver's previous relationship, so if that annoys you, I'm sorry! It is strictly a thing of the past.
> 
> That's all for now! I'll have a couple things to say at the end of the chapter, but I'm not going to spoil it.
> 
> I love to hear your thoughts and suggestions so don't hesitate to comment. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Sara gripped the cold metal beams beneath her with white knuckles, struggling to slow the rise and fall of her chest. High above the city, entangled in the ironwork at the top of the clocktower, she felt safe. As if no one could reach her. But that didn’t change the gravity of Ava’s words.

Part of her wanted to laugh it off, dismiss it as madness and let it unnerve her no more. But she knew that it didn’t make sense, to claim what Ava had claimed, if there was not some kind of truth to it.

Time travel. Government owned time travel. That part of her story made sense; the government controlled everything that it could. But the rest of it was more than difficult to believe. Everytime she thought about it, her head started spinning, and she focused on the sensation of the night time chill seeping through her gloves to stay grounded. It was something that had always helped her. 

When she closed her eyes, she could still feel the way the cool desert sand churned as she dug her fingers into it, long ago in Nanda Parbat. She had spent so many nights with her once treasured beloved, sitting on top the dunes that disguised the hidden city, listening as Nyssa read her the stars.

But all the constellations in the world could not keep the starts in her eyes. As they fell, she remembered the nights long past, when she and Ollie used to sneak out just after dark and take a cab to the place where all the boys took their girls.

They would climb the crumbling fence of an abandoned nature reserve outside the city and race down the hill, through the forest, running until they reached the waterfall where the runoff tumbled into the wide river that flowed underneath an old stone bridge.

On nights when the air was still, the sky above shone down upon the still water with a reflection as clear as day. It was as if one could swim among the stars themselves.

It was a lovely place to swim, relatively clean and plenty shallow. The river was wide, with only a few rocks and ruins to bar the water’s flow, and a small island near the middle decorated by a gnarled, beastly willow whose branches stooped low to the earth and covered all the land it grew upon with weeping vines.

Sara had only been there a few times, but all were memorable, despite being slightly drunk on wine or champagne that Ollie had brought with him on his way out.

Her favorite memory was when they were caught in a flash flood. They were having a picnic on the island when it started to pour and pour and pour, until the water rose high enough the swallow the island whole.

Sara and Oliver climbed up the wide, crooked branches, holding each other as they went, up high enough to escape the waters, but low enough for the wide weeping billows to keep them dry from the persistent rain. Together they watched the raindrops fall upon the sky like tears of the gods, snuggled close to stay warm in the night.

They were incredible dumb. They were extraordinarily reckless. And they were utterly, agonizingly free.

Nanda Parbat had, ironically, given Sara many things. A reason to live. A cause to be loyal to. It brought her so much terror and despair that she could never allow herself to think of it, but there were little things, good things, too.

Moments of love and lust and horizons beyond what she had never dared dream. Memories, short but sweet, that she clung to with everything she had. But there was not one day that she looked upon its vast open skies and did not see the life that had been ripped from her.

And now she looked upon the same skies, and saw something entirely new. This was her willow, this was her desert dune, here upon the steel woven point of the tower that overlooked Star City. But she could see the river no longer. And she was utterly, agonizingly alone.

And then this woman dropped out of the sky, this infuriating, nonsensical government stiff with nothing to offer but trouble. She was bothering Sin, who had been through so much already, and was still so young, and was kinder than she had any right to be.

Sara had stormed out of her apartment before Ava could finish what she claimed was her explanation. But she didn’t explain anything. She just wove a web of what sounded like lie after lie after lie.

But now that she was outside and away from the world, with fresh air in her lungs, Sara had to face the truth. And she knew that Ava was telling it. Sara read people easier than any book.

Ava Sharpe was from the future.

That was her real name, the woman from the future. Agent Ava Sharpe. One fact of many that she had revealed in the few minutes Sara had lasted. 

She suddenly needed to write it all down, for the sake of her sanity if nothing else. I there was any sanity left to be had. Her memory was well reliable, but her story would be easier to consider once it was on a page in front of her.

But the clocktower was a lookout, not a safehouse. She had only a metal briefcase, just large enough to fit her costume or her day clothes, and a box of medical gloves at the back window where she came in at twilight. If anyone discovered this place, they would find no fingerprints.

Sara might as well return to her safehouse anyways. There was no way she could do any more good tonight. She had put her costume back on with the intent of taking her frustration out on misogynist thugs, but found herself resting on her perch, with too much on her mind.

She let her grip on the ironwork go. Her heart jumped as adrenaline shot through her veins, and for a moment she fell, free of everything except the pull of the earth. 

Her hands flew up to grasp the scaffolding pole that ran through the center of the tower, and she twisted down and around before landing on a horizontal bar and flipping backwards onto the ground.

It was getting to be routine now, the steps she took to her costume case, the way she removed her mask, from the right side first, peeling it off like a bandaid. But before she did, the wind changed ever so slightly, and goosebumps rose upon her skin. Sara was not alone.

She wasn’t sure quite how she knew. There were no footsteps, no sound or smell that gave them away, but Sara had given up trying to explain exactly how she could do all the things she was trained to do. All she knew was that just as silent as the invader was, Sara was sure they were there.

It was only a moment before the footsteps followed. They knew that she knew, too, and there wasn’t time to stall. Whatever they wanted, it wouldn’t be good. The last time she heard good news, she was somebody else.

When she turned, they were there, standing before the crystal fractals of the clock face. The light rounded their edges like a river parting around a rock, unable to penetrate the obsidian figure of death that stood before her.

All she could see were the studs on their chest plate, the silver buckle of their belt, and the thin rectangular slit in their niqab where their eyes stared eerily back at her. Watching. Waiting for Sara to make the first move.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” she said. She needed to hear their voice, to confirm her suspicions about who it was that had been sent to fetch her, and to know how to best convince them to let her go. To let themself live.

They took a few steps forward. They were easy, simple steps, without guard or hesitance.

“I had no choice,” they said.

It was a voice that Sara recognized. He wasn’t a friend, or even really an acquaintance, but more of a classmate in her training days in the League. Someone who she had seen around, usually during group exercises, but never had a conversation with.

“Ra’s Al Ghul has ordered your return,” he continued. That wasn’t a surprise. She always knew he would come for her. The League was something that one could never escape from, in more ways than one.

And it wouldn’t have been hard to figure out that she had fled to Star City, the place she used to call home, where her family still remained. The family that thought she was dead. The family she could no longer bear to be apart from, just as she could never bear them knowing who she was now.

Sara couldn’t bring herself to let them know she was alive. Because, when she thought about it, was she really? Was she even human anymore, after all that she had done?

But just as she could not face her past, she rebelled against her future. However selfish it was, she needed to be here. To see her father, to see her sister, even if it was from a rooftop far away.  
After years upon years in the dark and the cold, even that was a miracle. A dream that had plagued her haunted mind ever since that fateful day on The Queen’s Gambit.

If she returned to Nanda Parbat, it would only be a matter of time before she tried to escape. And this time, after punishment and retribution, it would be too much for her to take.

“I’m not going back,” Sara said, “I can’t.” He had taken his niqab off, to seem less threatening or maybe more. He had short black hair and unforgiving eyes.

“That is not your decision,” Ra’s follower replied. For so many years, absolutely nothing had been Sara’s decision. This little bit of power was her oasis, and she wasn’t about to give it up.

“Tell them that you couldn’t find me. Tell them I ran,” she suggested. Of course, Ra’s wouldn’t accept either excuse, but that wasn’t her problem anymore.

The assassin stepped closer, drawing a plain pocket knife and holding it to her chest. This was what Sara had been hoping to avoid.

“I won’t lie for you,” he said. She didn’t think he would, but it had been worth a try. Unlike Ra’s, Sara thought words were at least worth that. It was unfortunate that these would be his last.

“Fine.” And that was all the warning she gave him. Sara had stolen his knife and turned him around in a second, and without hesitation, plunged the weapon directly into his heart.

“Don’t tell them anything,” she sneered as his head lolled to the side. His last breath left his body in a quiet rush, and he fell to the floor when Sara let go, onto the knife that was still in his chest. 

Just like that, he was a dead. A life put to sooner end by someone who had no right to. If Sin could see her now, she would run far, far away and never look back.

Part of Sara couldn’t help but rationalize it, like she had been trained to. To see him not as a person but as an arm of the enemy, a snake that could no longer strike. It wouldn’t be long before Ra’s sent another, and she would have to do the same.

It didn’t matter where she was, be it Star City, Lian Yu, or Nanda Parbat. Who she was didn’t change. Sara was a murderer, a monster, and yet she knew she would dispose of the body easily and murder the next follower even easier. Her retched nature could not be escaped. 

It was the only way she could stay here. In this tiny clock tower on top of the city with only Sin to listen to, but not talk, because she simply couldn’t bear to burden Sin with her presence more than she had to. It was the only way she could continue to watch over her family.

She told herself that it would only be for a little while. Only until she knew they were safe from the aftershocks of the Undertaking, that her sister still had ambitions and her father still had warmth. And after that she would leave, as not to put them in danger. She was here to protect them and that included keeping herself locked away.

It took a bit longer to reach her safehouse than Sara had originally planned, due to the body that she had to get rid of. It was a thing that she had done a hundred times. No one would ever find it, and Sara put him out of her mind, unable to bear the burden of all that she had stolen. And so he was erased, and The Black Canary moved on as best as she could.

Wedged between an abandoned complex and a collapsing factory was a gray brick building that had little use other than small crimes and hideaways for the homeless. Amsterdam Way wasn’t a part of the Glades, but it was equally run down, and that made it a wonderful hiding spot.

It was technically owned by the League, but Star City hadn’t been a hot spot in ages. Sara was afraid that the quake might change that, but she tried not to dwell on it. She would stay here in her own little corner where nothing could touch her, and hope to hell that was enough.

The safehouse was no palace. Ava’s expensive government tech was shiny, but without it, she would be nothing. Sara didn’t need anything but a room to hide her stuff somewhere where cameras couldn’t find it. 

The floors were covered in a thin gray carpet that looked like oatmeal and clung to dirt. Sara never cleaned it. She would when she left, which would be soon, as soon as she made sure her family was safe. But only to because it belonged to the League. Not because she cared.

The walls were the same color, where it could be seen between the water and mildew stains. It was reinforced with streaky brown baseboards that went halfway to the ceiling and split off from the wall, diving the studio space into awkward sections.

The rooms didn’t have any meaning to them. Sara’s things were everywhere, and none of it really mattered. Furniture, or whatever she had to pass as it, came and went as often as the residents did, and maybe even more.

There were random lamps in random corners of the rooms. Some of them were on tables picked up off the side of the road, but most of them were just set on the floor, giving only enough light to be sure no one was hiding in the shadows.

But there wasn’t much to see. The dim light illuminated the translucent curtains and cheap broken blinds, the cracked chairs and torn blankets, the papers and plates and whatever other junk was scattered around.

Half of the duffle bags and backpacks were still full of stuff that Sara didn’t want to see. They belonged to people who had walked out the door and never came back. If she needed to, she would use them, but it felt wrong, when they contained the only memories left of their owners.

The only things of use were against the walls. An old mini fridge that had more alcohol than food. Shelves and cabinets left over from it’s more inhabitable days, stocked with non-perishables and microwave dinners.

There wasn’t even a real ceiling, just wooden beams that crisscrossed pipes and insulation. Sara’s regular belongings were piled along the wall by the door: clothes and toiletries and the worn, abrasive pillow and blanket that was her bed. An heavy trunk with a padlock on it, the only new thing around, filled with weapons that Sara was ashamed to own.

Compared to the fuselage she used to hide in, it was a dream. And that was as good as it got.

There were bits of notebooks and newspapers scattered around the place, and enough pens that Sara tripped over them when she wasn’t paying attention. This one time, the old fashioned ways of the League were a convenience. 

She found a half used sketch pad and a pen that worked after a few scribbles in a drawer by what once could have been called a kitchen. She flipped the page over and plopped down on the stained tile, smoothing it out over the dips in the floor.

There was no more procrastinating. Sara had to face the facts that had been presented to her and Sin in that too pristine apartment of Ava’s. 

She wrote Psycho Time Traveler in decent scrawl across the top, and then underlined Sin in the upper right corner. Sara wanted to know what she thought about Ava’s story. And she needed to make sure that Sin was okay after she left her alone with a possibly dangerous stranger.

Sara hadn’t stayed long enough to get the full story. She only knew a few things that she wrote down in bullet points, barely managing to ignore how ridiculous it all sounded. Sometime in the future, time travel is invented. That much wasn’t too hard to swallow.

The government controlled time travel. That part wasn’t difficult to believe, either, although Sara had no idea how that might work. Not that she wanted to find out. Everything she was dealing with now was more than enough.

And that was about as far as the believability went. Ava went on to explain that she was an agent of the government branch that controlled time travel, the Time Bureau, and that one of their former agents was now trying to kill Sara.

Sara was used all sorts of people trying to kill her. The time period that they were born in didn’t really make a difference. As long as they had flesh, they too could be killed, and then the problem would be solved. She didn’t let herself consider what kind of person that made her.

It was then that things started to get weird. Ava’s explanation of the whys and hows made no sense at all. She had started off by saying that it was dangerous to know too much about her own future, which meant that Ava knew her, in her future.

The future that Sara never really considered herself to have. But then Ava brushed it off with the mention of a flasher, a memory eraser. There had been ways, many ways, to alter memories in the League. But nothing like what Ava had described.

Then again, considering her pristine apartment with her perfectly painted walls and stainless steel appliances, the fancy television and the matching cushions and the box of trinkets that revealed Ava’s control issues more than anything else, Sara couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it was that that woman had hidden in the rest of her drawers.

She had said that this rouge agent, this Sylas person, was obsessed with her. Obsessed with her because of what she did. Ava wasn’t specific, but it was somewhere between abandoning her family and destroying time itself that Sara stormed out, slamming the door behind her and making a beeline for the clocktower. 

She just needed somewhere to breathe. Somewhere to rationalize. Because she knew what was really bothering her, and it was something she had to face.

It wasn’t the ridiculousness of it all. Sara’s life had always been ridiculous, even before Lian Yu, even before Oliver Queen. And as much as Ava Sharpe was clearly one level of crazy and another level of infuriating, that wasn’t the root of the issue either.

The problem was that it was evidently, indisputably true. No one could ever make up such an elaborate story and present a whole apartment of evidence as well as Ava had. And of course what she said was true. Of course Sara ruined everything, abandoned everyone.

She always did.

She abandoned Laurel’s trust when she slept with Oliver, for no reason other than selfishness. She abandoned her parents when she boarded The Queen’s Gambit and never came back. She abandoned Oliver’s safety when she used him for Ivo and left him in a cage.

She abandoned Ivo when she sided with Oliver, after all that Ivo had done for her. She abandoned herself when she joined the League. She didn’t have a choice. She abandoned Nyssa, her dearest beloved, when she fled the hidden city to return home.

But it wasn’t home. Not after all that she had done. All of the souls she had stared in the eyes as she watched the light leave them, with no mercy and no remorse. No regret for all of her sins. Of course she ruined her life and everyone else's, too. She already had. It was who she was.

It was her mere existence the drove others to despair. There was nothing that Sara could ever do that would change that. Even this body, that she carried with her through it all, was riddled with the evidence of her repugnancy. The final nail in the coffin of her miserable life.

After all that she had done, she could never face her family again. But after all that she had done, how could she leave? How could she ever do anything but protect them? A life of loneliness relieved only by the knowledge that Laurel and her father were safe. That was all she deserved.

Sara didn’t realize she was crying until the tears hit the paper, leaving trails where the water ran through the cheap ink. There wasn’t really much there, only four of five vague bullet points covering the jist of what had been a very vague explanation.

Still, she didn’t really know what to do with it. She didn’t know what to do with her tears either. Sara just wiped them away with the back of her hand so she wouldn’t have to figure it out headed for the door.

These days she never really knew what to do with herself. It had been so long since Sara had any kind of choice that she had forgotten what is was like. But there was one thing, and only one thing, that Sara could do.

She could keep her family safe.

By now her father would be in his apartment after a long shift at work, drinking a beer and watching sports. The thought brought a smile to Sara’s face. No matter what changed, her father seemed to stay the same, as kind and caring as ever.

Laurel, on the other hand, was less predictable. Sara knew that she was a lawyer; it was something that she had wanted so badly, back before her life had fallen apart. It made her proud to see how far her sister had come. 

But she knew that if Laurel saw what Sara had become, she would be horrified. Sara tried not to think about it as returned to the clocktower with the paper in hand, folding it up so it fit in the pocket of her costume’s leather pants. It was too much information to leave behind.

The path from Sara’s clocktower to Laurel’s apartment was one she ran often. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out the best path through alleyways and across rooftops that would take her there the fastest and the least conspicuously.

It was still a decent ways away, in a nicer part of the city. That was a good thing. Sara didn’t want Laurel anywhere near the kind of people she had to deal with. It was just a little annoying to have to run everywhere she wanted to go in order to keep her identity a secret.

The time it took gave her time to worry. When she stopped by that afternoon, to make sure Laurel had gotten home from work in one piece, she had been getting ready for some sort of event. Curled hair and a blue one shoulder dress that would look nice at a fancy party.

It was strange seeing her like that. Grown up. It wasn’t like they hadn’t gone to parties when they were young, but she looked different somehow. Whatever the last many years had given her, Sara was sure it was far too different from what she had gone through. Maybe it was her that had changed.

Sara cruised through the streets easily. She was moving quickly, but not in any rush, floating from shadow to shadow with a familiarly that brought her comfort. It had been so long since she had any sort of routine. Checking up on her family would be her new one.

She would have waited for Laurel to return, but she didn’t need to. When she got to the car park, the hood of Laurel’s white Hyundai was still warm, and Sara scaled the fire escape of the adjacent shorter complex in a hurry to catch up with her sister.

It was colder on the rooftop. The space was mostly open, with nothing to shield her from the wind, but there was a ledge by the topmost security box where charcoal brick walls lined the vents. 

It effectively ruined any sort of city view for the renters in the other building, but it just so happened that Sara could hide behind the wall and keep an eye on Laurel’s apartment, which had a large glazed window right across from it.

And there she was. Sara has guessed window was near the front door, because Laurel always stopped to put her keys on the table against the wall, on Laurel’s right, Sara’s left. From this angle, she could see the line of sequins going up the side of her dress.

Suddenly her chest felt heavy, like the weight of the past six years came crashing down on her all at once. This wasn’t the first time she had seen Laurel since she got back, but it might as well have been. Every time was a relief and a reminder all at once.

It was a relief that she was still okay. That she was real, after so many years without even a picture, without knowing where she was or if she was safe or if she was even real. It was a reminder that whoever Laurel was now, she was a stranger.

And it was better that way. Laurel was a lawyer; Sara was a murderer. Watching the light dance in her hair through the window was as close as she could get. If Laurel ever found out about her, Sara was sure she would be disgusted. The girl she called a sister died a long time ago.

There wasn’t any reason for her to stay. Laurel was obviously tired, but safe, walking further into what Sara assumed was the living room. As she took off her earrings, her mind wandered, and Sara held her breath as Laurel’s eyes darted to the rooftop she was standing on.

And then she heard it. The subtle creak of a bowstring being drawn by someone nearby. Sara’s head snapped around to search the rooftop behind her, and before she could think she took off across the rooftop, just as an arrow slammed into the brick where she had stood moments before. 

She sprinted across the edge of the expanse, bo staff in hand, not thinking of anything but a safe place to hide. She hoped that whoever was after her was following her, and she could draw them away from Laurel, but there wasn’t time to look back and check. All she could do was run.

There was a shorter building up ahead, and she leapt, hoping the height difference would throw the archer off his game. She hadn’t heard any more arrows, so they were likely following close behind, or perhaps they weren’t good enough to hit a sprinting target.

As soon as she landed, she rolled over the gravel and kept going, but by time she heard the electronic beeping of the automated crossbow, it was too late. Thick wire rope extended from either side wrapped itself around her, effectively trapping her where she stood.

It was only then that Sara had time to think. Her heart was pounding in her chest and adrenaline was blazing through her veins; she knew she had only seconds before either her follower caught up to her or a second mechanism was triggered to plunge Sara into the dark.

Laurel. She was the first thought that came to Sara’s mind. Laurel was safe and warm inside her apartment, and they were far enough away now that no danger could come her. She would rest peacefully tonight and live to see the morning. 

If Sara was to die now, she would die knowing her duty was done.

But nothing more happened to her. There was no point in struggling against the ropes, bound as tight as they were, and so she let herself be still and used her senses, her eyes and her ears, to take in as much as she could.

She was a few buildings away from Laurel’s apartment. The rooftop was surrounded by a white cement wall a few feet high, keeping in the layer of smokey gravel that covered the ground.

There was a security building to her right made of the same dull brick, with tall narrow windows that let out a bit of saffron light. And there were footsteps, crunching softly but clearly on the ground, coming from behind the building but heading her way.

The figure turned the corner, and it was immediately clear that this was the archer that had been hunting her. In the shadows, Sara couldn’t see much, but the bow in his hand and quiver on his back proved that much.

They were tall and muscular, clad in a dark green outfit made of polished leather. Their face was mostly hidden by a heavy hood that cast darker shadows upon their face. A bell went off in Sara’s head, but she couldn’t quite place it, until the figure stepped into the light.

Oliver Queen. There he was, right in front of her, after all these years. That was why Sara recognized the hood; it had been among Ollie’s things in the fuse lodge on Lian Yu. 

It had been four years or longer since she had last seen him. He looked almost the same and yet, so different from the shaggy haired boy that filled her memories. The person standing before her was a man.

He seemed a bit taller now, though Sara didn’t know if he had grown or just been taller than she remembered. The thick leather hid his body, but she could tell by the way he carried himself now that there would be a much stronger body beneath it than he had previously.

His face was more angular, more adult, and his jaw was set angrily. But it wasn’t until he got closer to her that Sara could see into his eyes. They were dark and cold, so different than warm, halfway empty blue that she had known before.

Wherever he had been through since they parted, it had obviously changed him, inside as well as out. They both had already changed so much in the year they reunited on Lian Yu. It was hard for Sara to imagine what else could have drained the light from the boy’s once shining eyes.

And then she realized that she probably looked just as different. Older, stronger, colder. He kept walking closer, slowly and steadily, but nothing about him changed, and she realized that he didn’t recognize her. Ollie was standing mere feet away and had absolutely no idea who she was.

Not wanting him to find out, she pulled a sonic device from one of her pockets and tossed it between them. It lit up when it hit the ground, flashing neon as it emitted a high pitched ringing sound.

He had been there, at the police station, when Sara dropped in to stop a bad situation from getting any worse. When she got there, Ollie had an arrow pointed at Laurel’s chest. She must not know who he had become.

“Does it get any louder?” His voice was masked by a modulator, but Sara could still hear it. The low sound pitched by sarcasm and the occasional failed attempt at wit. She would have smiled, if she wasn’t in such an awkward position.

“Why are you following Laurel Lance?” He asked, without giving her time to say anything. He was mad at her for following Laurel. As if he had any right to be.

“I could ask the same thing of you,” she said, letting her anger show. He kept moving closer, stepping into her personal space, and now that she knew who he was she wasn’t the least bit concerned for her safety. Only annoyed at his stupidity.

Here they were again, Ollie and Sara, meeting on the rooftop to talk about Laurel. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see herself back on The Gambit. But he still didn’t recognize her, even after hearing her voice. Had she really changed so much?

“But I guess some things never change,” Sara continued. “You and her, always and forever.”

“Who are you?” Oliver demanded.

“Once you know, your life will never be the same.” There was no escaping it now.

“I can take it,” he insisted.

“Not this time, Ollie.” He was inches away now, staring down into her eyes, and Sara watched as something between disbelief and shock dawned on his face.

His lips parted, but no words came out; instead he reached for her, seeking confirmation of the secret he had just uncovered. With his right hand he pulled her mask and then her wig up and off of her face, leaving her bare in the light of the windows.

She watched with dread as Oliver stepped away from her, recoiling, pulling his hood down to better take in the sight of her. She could see the memories flashing in his eyes, the boyish wildness coming back into his features, and when he spoke his voice was no longer masked.

“Sara?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sara is obviously drowning in self loathing at this point in her story. Her view of herself is shown throughout this chapter but I of course do not agree with all of the awful things she thinks about herself. That will be worked on in future chapters.
> 
> It's probably annoying to see Oliver referred to as Ollie every two seconds, but that's what Sara usually calls him, and since this is from her point of view that's the name I used most often. Sorry about that.
> 
> The nature reserve is completely made up by me, as far as I know. It is not mentioned in the show and I've never read the comics. It's a new area that I wrote in for the sake of the story, so if it seemed unfamiliar that's why.
> 
> I don't know if canon Sara has pockets in her costume, but I figure she must have somewhere to keep all her gadgets and doo dads on her person, so I'm saying there are hidden pockets in the name of logic.
> 
> I also have no idea what kind of car Laurel drives. I know there is a scene somewhere in the second season where she gets pulled over for drunk driving, but I didn't know what episode it was, so I went off of memory. I don't know anything about cars so I just googled a car that she might have. If you're a car person, I'm sorry.
> 
> Okay, I think that's everything you needed to know. Thank you so so much for reading and please leave a comment if you'd like! I love to hear from you guys!
> 
> If there is anything you'd like to see, feel free to suggest it. This story focuses more on the characters than the plot, and since it follows canon I'm not really concerned about the actions parts of it. So if there are any scenes, places, or characters you want to see please let me know and I'll try to write it in.
> 
> Until next time!


	7. Mad World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fear in his boyish eyes, so real it hurt to look at. The screams that echoed through the halls of The Amazo. Those dark sullen halls that were filled with her own silent cries and hopeless whimpers just the same. His hand reaching out for her as the water swept her away, just barely close enough to reach and yet, never so…
> 
> It was a nightmare made real. Made slightly better by having the company of someone who once could be called a friend. She wasn’t sure if there was such true things when your life was on the line every single day. Even now, were their lives so different? Had they ever escaped at all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers!
> 
> I have decided to post a new chapter every Wednesday. This week is my first week back at college and I think a little bit of structure will benefit the both of us. I can't guarantee that I will always be on time, but I'm going to try and if it doesn't work out we will make adjustments.
> 
> That's all I'm going to say for now! My regular notes will be at the end of the chapter as to avoid spoilers. Please enjoy and leave a comment with your thoughts below!
> 
> Warnings for mention of past rape and past attempted rape. This story involves Sin's canon backstory as well as the liberty that Sara was sexually abused during her time on The Amazo. There are no depictions, only brief mentions.

Oliver looked as if he was standing before a ghost. He drew back his hood to better see her, revealing wide eyes and an open mouth. He was clearly shocked, and for a moment he did nothing but stare at Sara. Taking in her in as if searching for something he had lost long ago. Sara merely watched in silence. She had been counting the seconds, and now they were out of time.

“I’ll give you some time to let it sink in,” she said. As soon as her sentence ended, the sonic device sitting between then turned from a deep blue to a flashing bright red. Sparks flew in every directions, like a broken electrical outlet about to burst into flames, and then it exploded with a soft pop that scattered the gravel and sent Oliver to the ground.

The blast rocked the crossbows from their stands, and Sara freed herself from her binds as soon as they were loosened. She dove behind the security building while smoke billowed up around her. It was dry and musty, and it burned as it crawled into her lungs, but it was worth it. By the time Oliver rose, it would be as if she was never there.

Sara didn’t waste any time in getting away. The smoke drifted towards her on the wind and she ran away from it, further from Laurel’s apartment, across rooftops she wasn’t familiar with. Some were similarly built, and some were made of jagged concrete that scraped her knees as she landed on it.

Beyond the next few buildings was a recreation complex. There was an outdoor patio on the roof, complete with a swimming pool, an accompanying deck, and a fire escape that lead all the way to the ground. She didn’t think Oliver would be following her, but it was never safe to rely on maybes and probablys when the wrong answer could get you killed.

She skirted the pool and grabbed the railing with burning palms, running down and down and down again as she wound towards the bottom. Soon she got far enough down that if anyone was following her, she would have heard their footsteps pounding on the thin grating of the decks.

It was just as well. Her thighs were burning, sending shooting pains through her legs and up her back in the places where the she had struggled against Oliver’s trap. The leather of her costume wasn’t thick enough to prevent rope burn.

The pain wasn’t bad. It never was. There was nothing that she hadn’t been through, and she had learned a long time ago how to ignore the hurt and push onwards. But seeing Oliver’s face again, so close in front of her...that was another matter entirely.

The last time she saw him, he had been all but dead. Surrounded by the mirakuru crazed soldiers that manned the quickly flooding ship. For so many years she had lay awake at night, desperately trying to push away her last memory of him.

The fear in his boyish eyes, so real it hurt to look at. The screams that echoed through the halls of The Amazo. Those dark sullen halls that were filled with her own silent cries and hopeless whimpers just the same. His hand reaching out for her as the water swept her away, just barely close enough to reach and yet, never so…

It was a nightmare made real. Made slightly better by having the company of someone who once could be called a friend. She wasn’t sure if there was such true things when your life was on the line every single day. Even now, were their lives so different? Had they ever escaped at all?

Sara felt sick at the thought, so she pushed it away, focusing instead on the more pressing problem at hand. She didn’t know how much he had changed, but if he was still talking to Laurel, he could tell her she was back, and then she would have valuable information about Sara’s whereabouts. Her life would be in danger.

She still had so many questions. What had happened to him? Where did he go, after all this time? Why did he come back? Did Laurel know that he was moonlighting as Starling City’s rumored vigilante? Did Laurel still talk to him at all?

It was unsettling to be sitting in this shadowed corner of the fire escape while contemplating such monumental questions. When Sara was with Sin, it was easy to pretend that things were halfway normal. That this was just her life now. But with such an obvious reminder of her past, it suddenly wasn’t so easy.

Maybe he wouldn’t tell. He had a secret too, now, maybe he would understand. Or maybe he just didn’t care anymore. The man Sara had seen in his eyes, while not completely cold, was not the boy she had once loved. No where close to it.

She needed to see him again. If she got to him before he got to Laurel, Sara could convince him to keep her return quiet. It wouldn’t be hard to simply not mention her. She was a ghost, a phantom in the night, and nothing more. A ghost with a secret that needed to be kept.

As she stood, she realized just how tired she was. It crept up on her as she climbed down the last few staircases and onto the pavement of the alley. This night seemed to last forever, between Ava and Oliver, and the more she walked the harder it was to keep her eyes open.

She had meant to go to her safehouse, where a warm blanket and something to eat waited for her, but when she looked up again she realized she had been heading towards her clocktower without thinking about it.

It felt safer there, somehow. As if it was hers alone and no one could hurt her there. Seeing Oliver had reminder her of a lot of things she wanted to forget. She needed somewhere to hide, from the world, from herself, even just for a little while.

Of course it wasn’t really safer, she knew that. It would probably be easier to find her there, but Sara couldn’t stand the idea of curling up on the floor of the League’s safehouse like a dog, so she went through the back window and, after changing, curled up on the tower floor instead.

She wasn’t out for long. It was less comfortable than home on the hard, cold floor, but it had been so long since she slept in a bed that she didn’t care. Though it did make for light sleeping, and when she sun began to rise, she was awoken by it’s saffron glow.

The tower was illuminated by the soft pink color of the sunrise. There were splashes of yellow here and there where the streetlamps down below still shone. It was beautiful, watching the colors came together and fell apart again as they glimmered through the glass.

Down on the street, people were already up and about, but up here it was quiet. Peaceful. It was also cold, and Sara found herself shivering as she got to her feet, trying to shake off the grogginess of sleep and the craziness of yesterday.

Her bo staff was still in her hand, and she kept in there, needing something to hold on to. For a while, she watched the sunrise, twirling the weapon absently in her hand, until a soft set of footsteps began to echo from the lower chamber of the tower.

Oliver. Sara wondered how he found her hideout so quickly. Had he been keeping tab on the Black Canary, not knowing it was her? The footsteps drew closer, thumping distinctly on each step, until the rhythm slower to a quiet patter that came up behind her.

She whipped around, her bo staff extending at the end of her outstretched arm, ready to defend herself against the man who had tried to shoot her. But it wasn’t Oliver. Looking up at her with questioning eyes was Sin, who had breakfast in one hand and a change of borrowed clothes in the other.

Sara withdrew her staff. “Told you, The Patty Shack on 5th and Brewer, best burgers in town.”

“Well, Patty Shack’s in the Mayor’s territory,” Sin explained, sitting against a scaffolding bar, “so I’ll take a sub par breakfast over a bullet.”

The Mayor. She had been so wrapped up in her own problems that Sara forgot about the gang leader who had been terrorizing The Glades. She wanted to do something about it, but from what she heard, he had enough ammunition to take down an army.

Looking at Sin, she seemed so small, sitting criss cross on the floor with her favorite leather jacket and short spiky hair. She reached into the bag and pulled out a sandwich wrapped in foil, offering it to Sara. Sara didn’t take it. After everything that happened yesterday, she wasn’t hungry.

Sin noticed. “What’s wrong? Look, I know I’m skinny, but I can eat two of these, and I will.”

Sara smiled at that. Whatever was going on with her family, she could count on Sin to be there. She must have been worried about Sara, worried enough to check up on her and bring breakfast along, even though she didn’t have the money for it.

Sin didn’t deserve Sara’s coldness, her temper, and her unexplainable actions. Sara realized the sinking feeling in her stomach where hunger usually was walked the line between guilt and shame. She owed Sin an explanation, or at least as much of one as she could give.

“Just ran into an old boyfriend,” Sara admitted. She slid down the ironwork, sitting next to Sin on the floor. Her thighs still burned from the ropes she was entangled in last night, but it didn’t bother her much.

“I’m just...worried,” that was hard to admit, “that he might tell my family that I’m back.” Sara had tried so hard to be a pillar of safety for Sin, someone who was strong and reliable, and looked out for her when she needed it.

That meant keeping Sin at arm’s length. Most of their conversations were trivial; Sin knew that Sara was a vigilante, and that was about it. It was better that way, and Sara could tell that Sin didn’t mind. It was a comfortable relationship. 

They talked about everything easy and nothing difficult. But suddenly, with Ava in their life, that had changed. And Sara felt she owed Sin an explanation.

“You have family in Starling?” Sin asked.

“Yeah. My father, he’s a policeman. And my sister, she’s a lawyer.” Sin listened as Sara explained, sucking on her straw.

“Well, they must be real proud of their masked delinquent,” she joked.

Sara laughed, relieved that Sin wasn’t judging her, even though Sara knew she wouldn't. But she should have. If only Sin knew the extent of her delinquency. The number of kids only her age that ended up in graves at Sara’s merciless hand.

“They think I’m dead,” Sara admitted. And thank goodness for that. It was better that way.

“Oh, cool. My folks think I’m dead too. Thank, or they wish I’d never been born. One of those.” It was Sara’s turn to listen and smile in solidarity, making light of something that would be too difficult to talk about otherwise.

Sara had met Sin’s father. His place crashed on Lian Yu when she was there with Oliver. He had spent his last moments begging Sara to look after his soon to be orphaned daughter. 

Sara desperately wished she could tell Sin that her father cared, that he wanted her and loved her and gave his life making sure she was safe. But if she did, she would have to tell Sin how she knew that, and she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Why don’t you want them to know that you’re still alive?” Sin’s voice wa quiet, genuine, and it wrenched Sara’s heart in a way she hadn’t expected.

“Because I’m not what they remember.” It was the truth. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was something that Sin could have without having too much. Without knowing exactly how much Sara had changed. What she had done.

Sin looked amused. “Good little daddy’s girl?”

“Actually, far from it,” Sara said. In her teenage years she made a regular habit of skipping school, breaking curfew, and sleeping with men she wasn’t supposed to even know. Even before the League, she never followed the rules.

She decided to leave that part out of the conversation. “I was a lot like you.”

In a way, she was. She was lonely and it made her reckless, always getting into trouble where she shouldn’t be. But Sin was smarter and much kinder than Sara had been at her age. Sin was a good person.

“Is that why you saved me from those guys that night?” Sin asked. She didn’t have to say it. The night they met, Sin had been walking home in the dark, and a group of thugs jumped her. They would have raped her if Sara hadn’t heard the commotion.

She was glad she was. She never wanted anyone to go through what she had on The Amazo.

“No woman should ever suffer at the hands of men,” Sara answered. “I’m sorry I left you alone with Ava, I just…”

“Got overwhelmed?” Sin offered.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

 

Just then, Sara’s stomach growled, and Sin held out the sandwich a second time. Sara rolled her eyes, but took it, secretly grateful that she didn’t have to go back to her safehouse again. Sin pulled her own from the bag, playing with the foil wrapping.

“Do you believe her? Ava, I mean?” Sin asked.

“I don’t know,” Sara admitted. “What she was was crazy.”

“Yeah,” Sin agreed, “almost too crazy to make up.”

“You think she was telling the truth?”

“I think she’s worth a second chance,” Sin shrugged, finally opening her sandwich. “She did give me a bunch of stuff.”

“What? What stuff?” Sara asked, no longer interesting in eating.

“Useful stuff,” Sin said, her mouth half full. She swallowed and continued, “like blankets, batteries, food...I may have told her where to find you.” She looked ashamed, like she was worried that Sara would be angry with her.

“It’s okay, Sin. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Sara hated the expression on her face. It was the same look her marks wore in their last moments. It was the same look that had been on her face, the first time she stepped foot on The Amazo.

She wanted to offer comfort, to reach out and give Sin a hug and let her know in no uncertain terms that Sara would never let anyone do anything bad to her. Sara made a promise to Sin’s father than she intended to keep. But they weren’t that close, so she wrapped her arms around her knees instead.

That was another reason Sara couldn’t leave Starling City just yet. Sin was still a kid, and the streets of The Glades grew more dangerous every day. Even so, Sara could take out every single one of them if she needed to. And that included meddling time travelers.

“What did Ava say after I left?” Sara asked, after the silence had settled between them.”

Sin shook her head. “Not much. She just said that there was no point in explaining if you weren’t there. She offered me to stay, but I didn’t want to, so I left. Nice place though. If she’s crazy, she’s crazy rich.”

“Maybe both…” Sara said, half to herself. She found herself wishing that there was some sort of proof, a way to know for sure, but she realized that there was. The Dollmaker’s bunker address. There was no way Ava could have known Laurel would be taken there a day before Laurel was kidnapped.

Unless she was telling the truth. Six years ago, Sara would have never believed it. But after all the things she had seen, from miracle serum to a magical hidden city, was time travel really so out there?

Beneath Nanda Parbat lay a labyrinth of labs filled with all kinds of scientific technology that was years, maybe even decades or centuries, ahead of its time. Sara had seen it with her own eyes. Was it so hard to believe that it existed elsewhere?

Yes. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

Sara and Sin didn’t talk about Ava again. They watched the sun rise over the city and finished their off brand breakfast. Sin was the kind of company that didn’t mind silence, and neither did Sara. Being left alone with your thoughts was hard, but being made to say them was worse, so they simply sat in silence, together.

Eventually the pink faded from the yellow glow. It was bright enough to shine through the glass with an uncomfortable glare that was quickly heating the metal throughout the tower, and neither of them wanted to stay.

“I told Max I’d stop by,” Sin said. She climbed to her feet and offered Sara and hand, who was still after sitting in a ball so so long. “You wanna come with?”

“I’ve actually got a few errands to run,” Sara said. Oliver and Ava, specifically, but Sin didn’t really need to know that. “You don’t know where Oliver Queen hangs out these days, do you?”

“Oliver Queen?!” Sin’s mouth fell open in shock, and she burst into giggles. “Your old boyfriend is the dumbest frat boy in Starling City?”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Sara said, glaring at Sin in mock offense. “It was a long time ago, okay?”

“Uh huh, I’ll bet,” Sin snickered.

“It was!”

“I believe you,” Sin said, still laughing. She took a moment to stuff their trash into the paper bag, clearly amused by the image of her dark and powerful mentor going around with one such as Oliver. “Try Verdant. I don’t know if he’ll be there, but his sister might.”

“Oh, so you do know where he is,” Sara teased.

Sin feigned hurt. “I never said I didn’t!”

“Come on, you have to admit he’s a little bit cute.”

“Ew,” Sin wrinkled her nose, “he’s a boy.”

“What’s wrong with boys?” Sara asked.

“They’re not girls.”

“Well...yeah, okay, that’s fair,” Sara agreed.

“Catch you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later.” Sara watched Sin make her way to the staircase.

“Sin?”

“Yeah?” She was already a few steps down, but she turned around when Sara called her name.

“Stay safe out there,” Sara said.

“You too.” Sin smiled at her before disappearing into the daylight, and Sara set out to find the apparently infamous Oliver Queen.

Verdant wasn’t hard to find. There were flyers stuck on every window shop in The Glades. It was a good distance from Sin’s place, wedged between two buildings that looked abandoned, or on their way too it. With the bright neon sign spelling VERDANT in big letters, it was hard to miss.

It looked closed. It didn’t seem finished, but there was a black motorcycle with red accents parked in the outdoor lobby. That definitely didn’t belong the Thea. The closer she got, the clearer the figure standing near the door was, and he turned around as Sara came up behind him.

Oliver didn’t say anything. Neither did she. After a minute, he figured out that this wasn’t the place, so he unlocked the door with what was probably Thea’s key and let Sara inside.

It definitely wasn’t finished. The walls were a bright blue with the club’s name stamped across them like construction lining. Around the room were steampunk cutouts and half painted decorations, but other than that it was empty.

Sara didn’t know where to start. If he had told her family she was alive, this would be her end. She’d never see her father or Laurel or Sin ever again. But she had to know.

“Did you tell my family that I’m alive?” Sara blurted out after Oliver locked the door.

“No.” Oliver didn’t hesitate to answer, but he had obviously thought about it.

Relief washed over her in an instant. That was all she needed to know. And seeing that Ollie was at the bottom of her people to talk to list, she started for the back exit, but he was in front of her before she could get far.

“Sara, I saw you die.”

“Not the first time that’s happened, right?” She still hated boats. “And I thought you were dead, too. What happened to Slade?” Sara had left Oliver in the middle of an unwinnable war. But if he escaped, then Slade might have too.

But Oliver ignored her. “Where have you been?”

“Everywhere.” That wasn’t a lie.

“That’s not an answer,” Oliver pressed.

“Well, that’s the one you’re getting.” She didn’t owe him anything. What they went through together was a long time ago, and it was too painful to think about, so she changed the subject.

“About a year ago, I started hearing tales of the Starling City Vigilante, the man in the green hood. I knew it was you,” she lied. She had had her suspicions, but they were overshadowed by the fact that she thought he was dead. Seeing him alive was as much as a shock as it was a confirmation.

“I’ve never known you to be much of a fighter,” he said. What did he think she was doing, all that time they spent running for their lives on Lian Yu? Neither were willing to talk about themselves, to reveal their secrets, so they were going in circles.

“Where did you pick that up?”

He must have been talking about her role on the streets. The woman in the black mask made almost as much news as the man in the green hood. But that wasn’t any of his business.

“I met some rough people. Thought I should get rougher too.”

“Sara.” Ollie closed the space between them, staring down into her eyes. “Why did you come back?”

Sara thought she had made that pretty clear, but apparently he needed it spelled out for him.

“The earthquake.”

It was only then that Oliver connected the dots. “Because you wanted to make sure your family was safe. But now you’re still here, watching over them...protecting them. So, did you come here to make sure I didn’t tell them? Or because you were hoping I had?”

Sara grimaced. Whatever he had gained these last many years, it had cost him his kindness. Before Sara could respond, there was a knock on the door. 

“I’ll get rid of them,” Oliver said. Sara waited while Oliver opened it, expecting to hear Thea’s voice.

It was Oliver that spoke first. “Mr. Lance?”

“Hi,” her father said, from the other side of the door. Sara whirled around before she could stop herself. 

Six years. Six years she had played his voice in her head over and over and over again, and somehow it never sounded as warm and gentle as it did just now.

She almost didn’t believe it. He was right there. All that she wanted was to burst through the door, to run into his arms and never let go, to be safe, for once in her life. It was a fantasy that haunted her every day.

But a fantasy was all it could ever be. He could never know the truth.

“Something I can help you with?” Oliver asked.

“I’m here about my daughter,” Quentin said. “Laurel.”

Laurel had been fine the last time Sara checked on her. Had something happened since then? Sara’s heart started to pound as worries tumbled around in her mind, and she forgot her fear of being found out.

“Is she okay?” Oliver asked, echoing her thoughts.

“Yeah. Well, no, she’s not.” She could see him now, through a slat in the door. He looked the same. His uniform was different than it used to be, and his hair was a little bit gray, but he was still the same.

“She got pulled over for a DUI last night,” Quentin continued. “I tried talking to her about it, but...she wasn’t hearing me.”

“I saw her the other night. She didn’t seem like herself.”

“No, I know. She seems like me.” Sara remembered the nights she stayed up late watching movies and texting boys, waiting for her father to come home. Her mother was always asleep. It was Laurel who had to get him from the bar.

It was once, then twice, then three times, but that was it. It never seemed to bother Laurel too much, and her father was always fine in the morning. She thought he was just having a few bad nights, but maybe it affected her sister more than Sara realized.

“I don’t know if you know, but after you and Sara disappeared, I hit the bottle pretty hard,” Quentin admitted. 

So it got worse after she left. Another way that Sara had ruined her family’s lives.

“I know the two of you are friends. And she needs a friend.” That surprised her. Sara thought her father would be the last person to come to Oliver Queen for help. And he certainly wouldn’t encourage their relationship. Ollie got into too much trouble. He didn’t even know how much.

“Maybe talk to her,” Quentin suggested.

“Sure.”

“Anyhow,” her father said. He seemed unsure how to end the conversation, so he just turned and headed for the street. Sara watched her father walk away. He looked embarrassed to be asking, but he had always been good about putting his children first. Part of Sara wanted to hold onto him forever and never let him, but the closer he was, the more danger he was in. She could never let herself forget that.

He stopped when Ollie called for him. “Mr. Lance?”

“Yeah?”

Sara held her breath; he was gonna tell. Oliver was going to tell her father that she was alive and right on the other side of that door, and Sara didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know whether to run or stay, what was right or what was wrong. 

Her heart drummed faster in her chest as she waited, standing as still as stone.

“Umm…” Oliver started. He didn’t know what to do either. But when he spoke again, all he said was, “I’d be happy to talk to Laurel.” And Sara was in the clear.

Her father said thanks, and then he left, never knowing how close he had been to his long lost daughter. Too close. It wasn’t worth the heartache or the danger.

She didn’t want to be here when Oliver came back, didn’t want to face his judgement or concern, so she made for the back exit and was gone before he walked through the door.

Outside it was suddenly bright, though the next building over provided a little shade. She pulled her gray hood over her head and kept her eyes on the ground, suddenly overwhelmed. She was shaking, just a little bit, and that fact distracted her from realizing there was a person standing in the alley when she rounded the corner.

Sara didn’t realized the tall, lanky blonde was heading her way until the two smacked right into each other.

“Sorry,” Sara blurted out, holding her hands up to in defense, but she stopped when her hood fell and she could clearly see the person she had run into.

“Ava?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! I absolutely love listening to all of your comments so please don't hesitate to say hello and tell me what you thought.
> 
> I was originally going to continue Sara's point of view further, but you guys have been patient enough and this is in fact an Avalance fanfiction, so from this point on Sara and Ava with both be in the story on a regular basis unless there is a specific exception. Expect alteration of canon to make room for Ava.
> 
> The next chapter will be from Ava's point of view, but I want to ask you: Would you prefer Ava's point of view, Sara's point of view, or both point of views in alternation? Some people enjoy seeing both sides and some find it annoying, so I wanted your opinion.
> 
> This chapter was a lot of being in Sara's head, as usual. I'm working on pushing the pacing of my writing but I am naturally the kind of writer who will spend two entire pages describing a room, so please forgive me.
> 
> Thanks for reading again and feel free to comment any thoughts or suggestions!
> 
> Special thanks to my wonderful friend (you know who you are, I'm not going to mention you by name because I haven't asked) who always helps me by answering questions and listening to me ramble.


	8. Sign of the Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you coming, or what?” Sara asked, pulling Ava out of her thoughts. She seemed gentle here, with messy hair that glowed in the patches of sunlight that filtered through the trees. She cracked a smile, just small enough to see, and Ava didn’t feel so lost anymore.
> 
> “Guess I don’t have a choice,” Ava answered. Sara must know where they were, and the fact that Ava didn’t was aggravating her need to control, but she was more curious about what was waiting in the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! Here's the new chapter, as promised! I do have a couple questions for you guys so please see the notes at the end.

Ava was suddenly struck by a force unseen. The grays of the surrounding concrete spun sideways as she stumbled, throwing out her hands to steady herself. When she found her balance, she looked down to see Sara standing in front of her.

Her gray hood fell as she looked up at Ava, revealing frizzy blonde hair that was interrupted by tangles and knots. There was a wet shine to her eyes and indigo bruises underneath. She looked exhausted, and Ava wanted to help, but she knew it wasn’t welcome.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sara snapped.

“I need to talk to you,” Ava said. She wanted to give Sara time, to process what had obviously been a difficult conversation, but the more she waited, the more worried she became. Sylas was out there and Sara was alone.

She decided to distract herself by exploring the streets, to better learn the city. It was coincidence that she had seen Sara outside Verdant.

Sara didn’t think so. She grabbed Ava by the collar like a striking snake, digging her jagged nails into the fabric of Ava’s blouse. “You’re stalking me now?”

“No, Sara.” Ava let her voice be soft, despite the situation. Sara clearly was in a bad mood that she didn’t want to exacerbate. “I was on a walk when I saw you outside the club. I wanted to apologize.”

“For being a nut job?”

“For being too brazen,” she explained. Sara still had her by the collar, but her grip was losing its force.

“So it was just a coincidence?” Sara said skeptically.

“It was just a coincidence, I promise. My director always says that time wants to happen.”

Sara let her go, but not before shoving at her chest with enough force to make Ava take a step back. “I don’t want to hear about that stuff.”

“Okay,” Ava put her hands up, “we don’t have to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about anything,” Sara said, “except that you need to stay away from Sin. Our lives are none of your goddamn business.” She was trying to be threatening, and she was, to a degree, but her voice cracked as the shine returned to her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Ava was concerned. She had thought Sara’s defensiveness was due to being startled, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“I’m fine,” Sara answered. They both knew she wasn’t.

“Maybe you should take a nap,” Ava suggested. “I have a bed, if you want it.”

“I don’t want anything from you.” Sara glared at her with stone cold anger. They heard the sound of a door opening and closing, and then a man with short brown hair and a wide set jaw rounded the corner.

“Sara!” Oliver called. “Who’s this?”

“Nobody,” Sara said, still glaring. She spun around to answer him. “What do you want, Ollie?”

“I just figured you might need a place to crash,” Oliver said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I have more than enough room. If you need it,” he added with a shrug. 

Ava watched him grow more awkward by the second as he proposed what was probably the only genuine offer the man had ever made in his life. 

She hated it. She hated him, more than she should. She knew who he was, and who he would become, from her studies at the Bureau. He never messed with time, so they never messed with him. Despite the fact that his frat boy reputation preceded him by miles.

She hated the way he was looking at Sara. Soft and concerned, like he knew what it was that was bothering her. It made her stomach knot, against reason.

She wanted to butt in and tell him to fuck off, but that wasn’t professional, so she stood there glowering at him in silence from over the top of Sara’s head.

“Oh,” was all Sara said. She clearly hadn’t expected this either.

“Well…” Oliver hesitated. “I’ll see you later, then,” he said, looking up to meet Ava’s eyes with a bewildered shake of his head. She raised her eyebrows, daring him to call her out on her hostility, but he decided better of it and went back inside the club.

Sara turned back around, not knowing what to do with herself. Ava tried her best to seem nonchalant.

She wasn’t as good at hiding her feelings as she thought, because after a minute of staring at her, Sara signed. “Ugh!” she groaned, “Fine. Come on.” A shiver went up Ava’s side as Sara grabbed her wrist and tugged her along as she marched away from Verdant.

They cut through several alleys and wove along crumbling streets that Ava had never seen before. She tried to pay attention to where she was, but she couldn’t help but notice the heat of Sara’s hand around her wrist. The pressure was comforting in such a way that her worries were eased, and she found herself looking more often at Sara than the street signs around them.

When they came out of the alleyways, they were standing on the sidewalk of a major road, paved with fading asphalt and painted guidelines that didn't do much good any longer. That was about as nice as the streets got in this city that was clearly lacking any form of productive government.

It was only then that Sara let her go. “Can you call a cab? My phone is dead.”

“Sure.” Ava didn't know what they were calling a cab for, but she didn't want to aggravate Sara by asking. She dialed the number she had saved from last time and gave it to Sara.

Sara got in first, not waiting to see if Ava was behind her. “1407 Graymalkin Lane, please.”

Ava tried not to stare as the driver drove them away from the city. She failed miserably. It was just so heartbreaking to see Sara as clearly in pain as she was and knowing that she was adding to it, just by being there.

It was hard to reconcile the idea of Captain Lance with the girl who was staring dejectedly out the window. There was nothing to see but dull concrete buildings that were slowly overtaken by the dark green pines of the surrounding forest. She knew that Sara was watching the landscape to hide her own eyes.

But this forlorn image before her didn't change the facts. It was Sara who stole the Legends from Rip’s guiding hand and led them to destruction. A problem so massive it required an entire government branch to solve.

She couldn't forgive Sara for what she would do. Ava knew it was a childish grudge, but it was justified. Her entire life was dedicated to protecting the force by which life itself was built on. Sara was the one who had endangered it in the first place.

They drove farther than Ava was expecting. The city was far behind them now, replaced with tall pine trees and fallen trunks half covered in moss. She didn't know what would be this far out, so she turned to the window to watch and they slowed and turned down a long, winding road with a ornate sign that she couldn't read in time.

They were several miles in when Sara sat up. “This is good, thank you,” she said to the driver. Ava saw him frown in the rear view mirror, but he didn’t question it, slowing to pull over on the side of what was already a narrow road.

Sara left the car as soon as it stopped, jumping out on the left side and then vanishing behind the trunk. Ava paid the driver and followed.

Her business heels sunk into the earth on the side of the road. There was barely enough room to stand before the land was engulfed in tall, reaching pines that covered the forest floor with amber needles and pools of sticky sap.

It smelled like winter, with the mint of the pines mixing with the cool smell of rain soaked loam. She could see the tops of vibrant oak trees interlocked with the darker ones, painting the woodland in a quilt of lime and chartreuse and sage.

Sara was standing a few paces up the road. The underbrush grew wherever trees were not, and as the cab turned and drove off Ava suddenly realized how alone they were. Just two girls on a winding road, with undistinguishable forest for miles and miles in any direction.

“Are you coming, or what?” Sara asked, pulling Ava out of her thoughts. She seemed gentle here, with messy hair that glowed in the patches of sunlight that filtered through the trees. She cracked a smile, just small enough to see, and Ava didn’t feel so lost anymore.

“Guess I don’t have a choice,” Ava answered. Sara must know where they were, and the fact that Ava didn’t was aggravating her need to control, but she was more curious about what was waiting in the forest.

Sara parted the brush with her hands and slipped past the treeline. Ava tried not to panic, following as quickly as she could in unsuited footwear. The bushes were thick and thorny, and she didn’t so much part them as she did plow through like a moose in the snow.

She stopped to take her shoes off on the other side and noticed several tears in her pants from the branches. Great. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have ten more, but it was a bit disappointing to see such a fine suit go to waste.

Sara was already a good distance away, weaving through the trees, over logs and under vines on no path that Ava could see. Ava was too proud to ask her to slow down, so she followed as best she could, grateful that Sara couldn’t see every time she stepped on a rock or got stuck on a branch, or the time she tripped and nearly fell flat on her face.

They weren’t walking for long when Ava noticed the light ahead getting stronger. She could see a brown and gray wall beyond where the trees ended. Sara stopped a few yards before the forest opened into a clearing, leaving Ava to catch up and see for herself.

Beyond the treeline was a vast open field covered in short, bright grass. There were two gray pillars off to the side, and beyond that a fence of castle battlements, carved of stone bricks in varying shades of gray, which ran the length of the meadow.

In the center was some kind of wild garden. It rose up above the rest, with several dirt pathways that wound around the flora. There weren’t flowers, rather bushes and small trees and the occasional cluster of rocks that mimicked the forest they were in now.

Standing in the center of the wide field was a modest castle. Closest to them was a wall two stories high and many hundreds of yards wide, with decorative pillars every so often, and simple lamp posts that lit the staircases leading from the deck atop it to the garden below.

The castle itself had several sections. It rose higher in the center and was hugged on either side by dark roofs that were still many more stories tall. It was all build from the same stone brick, with accents of pine wood and crystal clear glass.

There was no grand entrance and no garage that she could see, so Ava assumed this was the back of the house. Still, why Sara had brought her here, she had no idea. She seemed far away, leaning against a tree trunk and staring at the castle with a frown on her face.

“So, are we just going to look at it, or…?” Ava said.

Sara glared at her. Ava watched as her face went through what she was sure was a dozen different snide remarks before Sara decided better of it.

“Come on,” she huffed, grabbing Ava’s wrist again and dragging her into the open. Ava thought she might have a bruise there by the end of the day. With one hand holding her shoes and the other at Sara’s mercy, she was pulled across the yard and into the garden.

Instead of going up the stairs, Sara stopped as a small wooden door nearly hidden in the bottom corner of a section of the wall. It had a decent lock on it, but Sara pulled a lockpick kit from her pocket - that was unsurprising, Ava knew how much Sara loved to break the law - and opened it.

“You first,” Sara said, leaning lazily against the wall.

It took Ava a second to realize that Sara was referring to the door that was barely bigger than the one in Alice and Wonderland. 

“In there? Seriously? No, you go first.”

“No way,” Sara grimaced, “how do I know you won’t pull a gun behind my back?”

“What? Sara, why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. That’s why you’re going first.”

“I’m not going first,” Ava insisted.

“Fine. You can walk home, then,” Sara said. She was unmoving from the wall, staring at Ava with harsh blue eyes. Ava stared right back. Who was she to tell her what to do?

She, Ava remembered, was part of the mission. Ava needed to be close to her under Director Hunter’s orders, no matter how much it made her blood boil. She wanted nothing to do with the woman. But it wasn’t up to her.

“Fine!” Ava set her shoes to the side and got down on her hands and knees, cringing as the fertilizer dirtied her already ruined suit, and crawled through the door.

It was darker than Ava had been expecting. Ava heard the sound of someone behind her, and then a creak followed by a soft thunk, and the two were plunged into pitch black darkness.

She could feel rough stone under her hands, which only just fit in the tunnel. It was cold and musty, and her heart started to drum faster as her back scraped along the top. She was trapped, with no way out except blindly shuffling forward.

“I can’t fucking see anything,” Ava complained. It echoed in the chamber. She knew cursing was unprofessional, but she was crawling through a hard and cold hole in the ground with dirt all over her pants and an unruly assassin up her backside, and she was pissed.

“Just move!” Sara said. That in itself was somewhat difficult considering the tightness of the space, but somehow Ava managed. Her knees hurt and her back was starting to ache when she was stopped by her forehead running into the end of the tunnel.

“Shit,” Ava cursed as the wooden thunk echoed behind her. She couldn’t see Sara’s face, but she could hear her laughing.

“Open the door already,” Sara snickered, “this sucks.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Ava replied. She balanced on her left hand and felt around with her right until her palm scraped against a sharp metal latch. She turned the knob and pulled sideways, and the door swung away from her as light flooded the tunnel.

Ava crawled through and into the open. She was in a wine cellar. The floor was smooth cement, polished but not exactly pretty, and the space was filled with rows upon rows of barrels, shelves filled with all kinds of bottles, cabinets and trunks and all kinds of things one might need to store enough alcohol for an entire village.

She got to her feet while Sara crawled out and shut the door behind her. Ava tried to brush the dirt off her knees, but it was too wet to be dusty, and instead spread farther down the legs of her pants.

“Are you going to tell me why we just crawled through a hole in the ground? Are there not easier ways to break in?” Ava asked. Sara looked even more disheveled than before, and she knew she wasn’t much better, but the cloud over Sara’s head had lifted somewhat.

“We’re not technically breaking in,” Sara said. “Oliver offered.”

It was only then that Ava realized where they were. “This is Oliver Queen’s house?”

“Obviously,” Sara sneered, “I just told you that.”

“Sara, I swear to god,” Ava threatened.

“What? Oh, please, do continue,” she said, looking up at Ava with loathing.

Ava sighed, taking a deep breath in and then out to calm herself. She thought Declan Sylas was a problem; the real issue was going to be not strangling Sara.

Ava ignored her taunting and changed the subject. “Why are we here, Sara?”

She shrugged. “You said you wanted to talk.” Her eyes wandered around the room, not meeting Ava’s.

“Well, yes, but I…” Ava trailed off. “I didn’t mean in Oliver Queen’s wine cellar.” She could feel her brow scrunch up as she took in the full ridiculous of this situation.

“No,” Sara said, and that was all. With no explanation, she went down past the rows of barrels, towards the staircase at the front of the room. Being here of all places sucked royally, but Sara was the one with answers now, so Ava followed reluctantly. 

She was getting tired of being ponied around. At the top of the stairs, Sara cracked open the door just slightly. She was completely still, but Ava could see her mind working to answer some unspoken question.

Then, in the next instance, she was gone. Ava went up the staircase in bare feet, hoping she wasn’t leaving dirt footprints, and scurried after Sara. 

There wasn’t time to look around; it was all she could do to keep from tripping as she ran across tile, across wood, across carpet, winding up through different floors on various ornate staircases that all looked the same to Ava, but clearly, Sara knew exactly where to go.

She dragged Ava behind a corner every so often to hide from waitstaff. Sara would wrap her arm around Ava’s waist and pull her close, backing them into a hallway or behind a dresser. They would stand in silence, pressed back to front, waiting until the coast was clear.

In those moments, Ava sought distraction, as to not hyperfocus on the passerby and give them away. That was the only reason she noticed the warmth of Sara pressed against her, the thump of her pulse in her wrist and the gentle whoosh of her breath on Ava’s shoulder. Of course it was.

Somewhere on an upper floor, Sara opened a door and hurried Ava inside. In the center of the room there was a king sized bed with light pink sheets sat upon a plush white rug on a raised platform.

It in itself was elaborate; Ava could tell by the shine that they were made of expensive silk. A blanket that matched the rug was folded neatly at the foot of the bed, and the other end was decorated with throw pillows in varying patterns of white and gray and draped in a sheer canopy.

There were nightstands on either side of the platform, and against the left wall was a matching dresser with an attached mirror. A second door led to what Ava assumed was the bathroom, sure to be just as ornate and elaborate as this. 

The right side of the room had a sitting area with a matching couch, chairs, and coffee table set in a three sided square on top of another rug. They were situated before a marble fireplace with a flat screen television mounted on the wall above it.

Beyond the bed was a wider door, for what Ava assumed was the closet, and a huge glass window with a seat that covered the length of the wall, which was covered in a white pillow mattress and more throw pillows than anyone could ever need.

There was a slider for black opaque curtains that ran flush with the window, and a second slider for a patterned velvet curtain that covered the windows and the bench. It looked like a lovely spot to sit and work to Ava.

There were various lamps and wall lights throughout the room for lighting. Nothing that was there looked out of place. It was all very high end and elaborate, and in Ava’s opinion, completely unnecessary.

“Why are we here, exactly?” Ava asked, unwilling to wait any longer.

“I already answered that,” Sara said, shutting the door behind them. “You said you wanted to talk.”

“I have my own bedroom, Sara, if you wanted to...take a nap, or something.”

“I don’t want anything to do with you or your stupid bed. I just needed someone to pay the cab fare,” Sara explained, turning to lean on the edge of the bed. “Was there something you wanted to say?”

Ava could feel the anger rising in her cheeks. It wasn’t surprising that Sara had used her, but it was annoying that she was here giving her all to protect her and Sara was refusing to work with her.

She didn’t know her that well, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. Ava was intelligent and clever and quick, and she had always had a knack for getting things to turn out the way she wanted, but now she didn’t quite know what to do.

“You walked out on me,” Ava said, still standing by the door. She clasped her hands behind her back, trying to seem dignified even in her bare feet and messy suit. “You didn’t give me a chance to finish explaining.”

Sara sighed, avoiding her eyes as she searched for her words, stalling having this conversation. She was putting on a good show, with crossed arms and a steel brow, but Ava knew better than to fall for it.

“I know you believe me. I can see that you do.”

Sara relented. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Is time travel really so strange? I mean, you’re an...” Ava was about to say an assassin, but thought better of it.

“I’m what?” Sara asked, hurt crossing her features.

“Nothing,” Ava said quickly.

“No, finish that sentence.

“You’re an ass,” Ava covered. 

Sara’s regular hostility returned, and it was almost a relief. “Say I did believe you. Then what?”

“Well…” Ava pondered aloud. Rip hadn't been very specific. “Our intel is limited. I need to be here if he tries to attack you.”

Sara was only paying half attention. She hoisted herself onto the bed, legs still hanging over the side, and fumbled with the remote that had been sitting on the nightstand. Ava heard the static pop of it turning on, and then different voices as Sara flicked through the channels.

“I don't need a babysitter,” she said, not taking her eyes off the screen.

“I know that. It's not for you, it's for us. The best way to catch is fish -”

“Is with bait,” Sara interrupted. “You want me to be target practice for a psycho killer?”

“Exactly.” Not exactly. If her future exploits were any indication, Sara was incapable of doing anything right, including staying alive. If she died now the timeline would be in ruins; Ava needed to keep her alive until it was her time.

She was waiting for Sara’s sassy reply, but it never came. Instead she was staring wide eyed at the television in a way that made Ava want to know what she was seeing.

The woman on the news was in the middle of a story. “...shooting downtown this afternoon at the gun collection fair. Witnesses report a local gang leader known as The Mayor was behind the attack; fortunately, only one was injured - a teenager by the name of Cindy Foster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few people have mentioned wanting to explore Sara's backstory more thoroughly. Is that something you guys are wanting to see? I was planning on touching on it in a separate fic but if it was explored in this story it would be an in depth look at what Sara went through and how it affected her.
> 
> Also, as you might have figured out, I suck really bad at writing any sort of plot. If there is anything you guys would like to see in future chapters, please let me know!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Until next week!


	9. Not About Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a long enough drive that the shock of the situation had started to fade, slowly, as if being absorbed by a sponge. She could feels her hands again, and the worry that was biting and clawing around her stomach.
> 
> Sin would be okay. But what if she wasn’t? Was their morning in the clock tower really going to be her last?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for being patient with me. I've been both busy and a little bit more ill than usual, so updates might slow down for a bit until the brain fog goes away.
> 
> This isn't my best writing but it's what I could manage right now. This chapter is one of those boring but necessary ones that gets the characters from one point to another. It's got a lot of character interaction, so if you enjoy that, then you might like this one. If you're more of an action, adventure, and romance kind of person, that will all be in the next chapter.
> 
> It also ends in kind of a weird place. I needed to switch into Ava's perspective for the next chapter so that's why. Warnings for mentions of blood and gun violence. Most of the mentions refer to canon events, so if you're okay with the show(s?) you should be fine. I'll let you know if things get more intense that what is on screen.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and please leave a comment telling me what you thought!

Ava hailed them a cab before they were out the door.

Sara waited for the panic to set in, the thumping heart and tight chest and tears that threatened to give her vulnerability away, but it never came. Instead, a dull numbness flowed slowly through her, clouding her thoughts to the point of stillness. 

All she could see was Sin, lying on the street, her blood pouring into the cracks in the asphalt underneath her, and even then it was encased in fog, as if some terrible nightmare that she could not escape.

Of all the people she watched die, in all of her many haunted years, she never thought it would be Sin.

She was startled by a hand pressed gently against her lower back. She froze where she stood, ready to strike.

“Sara,” Ava’s voice floated down from beyond the fog, “this way.”

It was only then that she realized they were outside the mansion. She must have lead Ava down the many floors to the front patio, but she wasn't sure. She wanted to snap at Ava, but the burning in her lungs was more important, and it briefly registered in some far away corner of her mind that it would be difficult to yell and hold her breath at the same time.

With no energy to fight, she let Ava guide her into the waiting taxi. Ava tugged her seatbelt through the space where her knees met her chest, and Sara rocked back against the leather as the car lurched forward.

Ava had on a pair of her old sneakers. They were in her line of sight as she lay her head on her knees. She must have found them in the closet of the guest room. Her heels were still in the garden, next to the trapdoor.

It was the room Ollie set up for her when she stayed over, before everything happened. She never used it. Sara stayed in his room and slept in his bed. But her pink sheets were still there. Her shoes were still in the closet. Pairs of old sneakers she wore to the reserve, pairs of heels she wore to impress him. The pink slippers she wore the last night they spent together. She hoped Ava hadn't seen those.

The ride to Starling City General Hospital was familiar. It was where Sara was born, and her sister before her. Every scrape and sniffle she had as a child, her parents had taken her here. And now Sin was dying inside.

It was a long enough drive that the shock of the situation had started to fade, slowly, as if being absorbed by a sponge. She could feels her hands again, and the worry that was biting and clawing around her stomach.

Sin would be okay. But what if she wasn’t? Was their morning in the clock tower really going to be her last?

When the cab pulled up, the hospital was on the right, forcing Sara to look over at Ava. She had been avoiding it since the newscast, and she couldn’t quite figure out why. She was annoyed, of course; annoyed that she was following her around, annoyed that she was worried about someone she had no right to even know.

But there was something else when she saw her, as she was now. The hard lines that seemed to encompass her had softened in her worry. Her hair fell in waves that tumbled around tangles, and she was still wearing her torn suit.

She herself looked different. Her eyes were a little bit wider, her face a little bit paler. Sara noticed for the first time that she was pulling at the ends of her jacket where the threads were coming loose.

It was the first time that Sara allowed herself to wonder. Who was she, really? When the day was done and the work was finished, who was she? Before now, she had never considered it. Ava seemed synonymous with regality. But perhaps there was more to her than that.

The hospital was anything but. It’s tall glass windows and rigid concrete outline seemed to never fade or change. In all her years, Sara had never seen any sort of improvement done. It remained the same, despite how much everything else changed.

Sara didn’t bother to wait for Ava. She jumped out and rushed around the back of the cab, suddenly aware of just how nervous she was. She didn’t know what she would find inside, and that was almost scarier than the situation itself.

It wasn’t until she walked through the sliding glass doors, into the chaos of the overfilled lobby, that she realized she had no idea where to start.

There were doctors and nurses rushing too and fro, in and out of the various hallways, but it was mostly filled by regular people. Parents and children and friends pacing back and forth, sprawled out in chairs or on couches, tapping pens and twiddling fingers and talking in hushed voices about anything that would distract them from whoever was on their mind.

Sara was struck by loneliness. Of all the people, she recognized none of them. And that wasn’t strange, Starling City was numerous and this was a popular hospital. And yet it was haunting. To see so many families and to know that you have no one.

Sin was somewhere within these floors. She hoped desperately that she wasn’t alone. It could take hours to find the right room; Sara wasn’t technically family, let alone the fact that she wasn’t technically alive.

She heard the woosh of the automatic doors opening behind her, and she knew it was probably Ava, but the fog was beginning to return as the image of Sin came back to her.

“Let’s start on the top floor,” Sara said, not looking at Ava. Her phone was still dead, so they would need to stay together.

“No need,” Ava said. Sara turned to glare up at her, annoyed at the interruption in her plan, but Ava seemed unphased. She didn’t meet Sara’s gaze. Her eyes were on the cell in her hand. “Sin is in room six eighteen.”

Sara frowned at her. “Says who?”

“My boss,” Ava said, sliding the phone into an inside pocket in her blazer. Sara noticed that her hands were still covered in dirt. Sara probably looked just as rough.

She stood by the door, feeling slightly odd that Ava’s mysterious boss seemed to know anything and everything. A little more than slightly. But there were other things to worry about now, and it occurred to her that Ava didn’t know where the elevator was, so Sara lead her to it.

It was just so much. Yesterday, Oliver knowing her secret seemed like nothing short of the end of the world. And now it barely bothered her. What he did was out of her control, and Sin needed her now, even if no one else did.

Her room wasn’t far down the hall, but there was a young couple sitting on the bench outside the room that made Sara pull Ava around a corner. She peered out at them, straining to see without being seen herself.

There was a girl that some part of Sara recognized before she fully realized who it was. She was asleep against the shoulder next to her. Her dark hair fell is thin waves down to her shoulders, and she wore a white sweater on top of her colorful clothes.

Thea Queen. The last time Sara had seen her, she had been a child, barely out of elementary school. Now, she was a little bit taller, her features stricter, but it was definitely her. She was much more recognizable than her brother.

It wasn’t Ollie she was next to, however. Sara didn’t recognize him. He had short, lighter brown hair and a red jacket. Maybe they had been friends before, or maybe not. It wasn’t like Sara ever knew Thea very well.

With Ava behind her, they watched as a doctor approached the bench. “Mr. Harper?”

The boy called Harper was awake in an instant. “What’s wrong, is she okay?”

He seemed to care for Sin, but Sin had never mentioned him before. Then again, she had no reason to.

The doctor didn’t answer. He continued down the hall and Sara backed into the hallway, trying to seem inconspicuous. By the time he passed, she saw Thea go into the room, and she waited until they left before she and Ava went to see Sin.

Sara stopped in the open doorway. Sin was lying in the hospital bed with closed eyes. She wore a blue gown and an oxygen tube. To the right was a monitor, emitting a high pitched beep that followed the rise and fall of the green lines, and a blood bag was hung to the left.

She looked peaceful. The breath she had been holding came out in a rush, and relief dyed the clouds in her mind soft sunset colors. Sin was okay. That was the most important thing.

She lingered in the doorway for only a moment, not wanting to disturb her, but Sin opened her eyes before she could leave.

“Sara,” Sin said. Her voice sounded tired, but she said her name with warmth, and a smile spread across her face. “And Ava.”

Sara had almost forgotten she was there. Sin sounded confused - a lot had happened between them since they saw Sin last - and Sara turned against the door to watch her.

She had been standing behind Sara, giving her her distance, which she appreciate. But somehow Sara knew it wouldn’t last.

Ava raised a dirty hand to wave gently to her. “Hi, Sin. I’m glad you’re okay,” she added. Sin snorted, and Sara could see her working to hide the pain it brought her. 

“You look worse than I do,” Sin said. “You get into a fight with a bear or something?”

“What happened to you?” Sara asked. She didn’t want to explain right now, not when Sin had come so close to...she couldn’t even bring herself to think it. She left Ava in the doorway to sit at the end of Sin’s bed, washing the worst of her fears from her thoughts.

“One minute, we were having breakfast, and the next thing I know you were on the news.”

“Yeah...I saw Roy on my way home from Max’s place, so I went to say hi,” Sin explained.

“Roy, who’s Roy?” Only one thing was clear to Sara, and that was that whoever was responsible for this would never do it again.

“Roy Harper, he was here earlier.”

“The guy with the red hoodie?” Sara asked.

Sin nodded. Noticing Sara’s expression, she added, “He didn’t do anything, though. I was just talking to him, down by the gun collection, and then...I heard the shots, I think,” Sin trailed off. Her eyes closed and she frowned with the effort of trying to remember through the medication.

“Hey,” Sara murmured, finding her hand. “Don’t hurt yourself. I know it’s a lot.”

Sin opened her eyes again, smiling crookedly up at Sara, but she could feel the tension in her hand. “If Roy hadn’t been there, I probably would have -”

“Died?” Sara blurted out. She didn’t really mean to, but it was the truth. Sin had nearly died. Even seeing her as she was now, safe and healing, it still worried her.

Sin’s smile wided. “I was going to say been in trouble, but thanks.”

“Sorry,” Sara said. She tried to force herself to breathe steadily, to let the tension in her shoulders go just a little bit. Part of her life now was being The Black Canary, but another part, perhaps a more important part, was being here when Sin needed her. “I’m just worried.”

“I know,” Sin reassured her, “but I’m okay. Aside from massive amounts of medical bills.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Ava said, still in the doorway. “You just...get some rest.” Her voice sounded unsure to Sara, like she didn’t quite know where she stood. None of them did, really, least of all Sin, who looked to Sara with skepticism. 

“I don’t -”

“Let her pay,” Sara interrupted, rubbing circles into the back of her hand. “That’s all she’s good for anyways.” She meant for that to biting, but it came out a little sarcastic. She could practically feel Ava rolling her eyes from where she sat on the bed.

“My phone is dead, but I’m gonna charge it as soon as I get back,” Sara said. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Sin said.

“I’m serious. Anything you think you might need, call me. Otherwise I’m gonna be mad,” Sara teased, messing with Sin’s hair.

“Hey!” She protested, but she was laughing as she swatted Sara’s hand away. “Get you dirty hands out of my hair.”

“Promise?” Sara asked.

“Yes, I promise, jesus,” Sin said, still giggling. “You’re gonna make my stomach hurt again.”

“Okay, okay,” Sara relented. “Do you need anything now? Are you cold? Are you hungry?”

“Sara,” Sara said. “I’m fine. Go take a shower. You too,” she said to Ava.

“I will,” Sara assured her. She stood up from her place on the bed, smoothing the blankets down and then pressing a kiss to Sin’s forehead. “Get some rest.”

“Yeah,” Sin said, already sounding sleepy. “Bye, Sara.”

Sara waved her goodbye and turned the corner, grabbing Ava’s sleeve for a moment to get her to follow. They were halfway down the hallway when she looked up to see an all too familiar figure coming their way.

Sara groaned. She glared at Ava, because she was closer, until Oliver got close enough to have what would surely be an uncomfortable conversation. Sara had hoped he would let it go, but he didn’t seem keen on that idea.

He was frowning over her shoulder, about where Ava was probably standing. Sara expected him to say something, or if not, get out of her way, but he did neither.

“What do you want, Ollie?” She asked. She didn’t mean to be quite so harsh, but she felt exposed standing out in the open, and it scared her.

“Your friend,” he said, “I can take care of her medical expenses.”

“I’ve already taken care of it,” Ava said, her voice as sharp as glass. “Thank you, though,” she added.

“Yeah, um…” Sara hesitated. She didn’t quite know how to say what she wanted to say, so she found herself staring at the ground when she said, “thanks for letting me crash at your place.”

“Of course,” Oliver said. He nodded to Ava. “Who’s this?”

Sara really did not want to explain, especially not here. “I don’t want Thea to see me, so…” She made to leave, but Oliver stopped her.

“What’s your plan, Sara?” His eyes went over her shoulder again, and he lowered his voice. “Because right now you’re just...well, you’re whipping across rooftops and keeping watch over your family like some sort of ghost.”

“We’re both ghosts,” Sara insisted. “We died on that island.”

“No, we didn’t. We both lived,” Oliver argued, his voice rising. He stopped himself and took a breath.

“I realize that you have been in pain for so long that it probably just feels normal now. But you can let it go and come home.” He sounded sincere, but Sara couldn’t meet his eyes.

He had absolutely no idea. He knew nothing, he knew less than nothing. Oliver was trying to talk to a person who was no longer there. His acknowledgement of her pain hit too close to home, so she ignored it and let her anger fill the empty space.

“I know that the earthquake brought you here,” he continued, “but your family kept you here. You have to tell them, Sara. They need you”

Sara didn’t have to tell them anything. And of all the people in the world, Oliver Queen had no right to judge her. Or tell her what to do.

“You told them that I died on the Gambit,” she said. She had asked him to, if he made if home and she didn’t. Her family didn’t need to know what she became after that. 

“If they knew the truth -”

“They would never talk to me again,” Oliver said. That wasn’t what Sara meant, but it was easier to talk about, so she went with it. “Not one of them. But it would be worth it.”

Would it be, really? Would it be worth it to find Laurel’s body still in her bed, warm with the blood that poured from her neck? Would it be worth it to be in her father’s arms, knowing it would be the last time? Sara was a monster, but she wasn’t that selfish. Not if she could help it.

Oliver offered her a hand, but she didn’t take it. Sara considered the best way out of this conversation.

“I will consider what you said. But right now I think I just…” Sara hesitated. She couldn’t think properly, as much of a mess as she was. “I need a shower.”

“Think about it,” Oliver asked.

“Yeah, I will. Ava?” All she wanted now was to get out of the hospital, to not have to think about it, and finally Oliver stepped out of her way.

She made her way through the halls with her head down, hoping desperately not to be noticed.

“Are you okay?” Ava asked.

“Tell your boss you need a car,” Sara said, ignoring the question. “Unless you want to call a taxi every time I need to go somewhere.”

Ava punched the elevator button for the ground floor. “I agree. Any specific requests?”

“Whatever’s inconvenient.”

“Of course,” Ava replied. The sarcasm in her tone was a relief to Sara. “We can’t go out like this. My apartment is closest.”

“We came to the hospital like this,” Sara argued.

“That was an emergency. Shopping is not,” Ava said.

The elevator doors opened just then, which was convenient, because Sara had no argument. It had been weeks since she had reliable plumbing.

There were cabs queued up outside, so they didn’t have to wait for one. Ava told the driver the address of the street corner nearest to her section of the Glades, and they walked the rest of the way through barren streets to Ava’s crumbling apartment complex.


	10. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cold chill ran through her as she pushed open the door. Her apartment looked as if a tornado had swept through it. Her dining table was overturned, her chairs lay in pieces on the tile, and the doors of her cabinets had been carelessly torn off.
> 
> “Someone had a party,” Sara sneered. Ava turned to meet her eyes with what she could only imagine was shock, and it was enough to make Sara realize that now was not the time for games. Something was very, very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy update day everybody!
> 
> Last week I promised action and adventure, but the events I had in mind ended up taking a whole ten pages instead of two or three as I had imagined, so there's going to be more interesting things happening across the next few chapters.
> 
> That's really all I have to say. Thank you for reading and please leave a comment below! Much love to you all.

Ava’s life before Sara was simple in its own peculiar way. Though her work was tumultuous and ever changing, she had always known who she was and what she wanted. She worked hard to do well and did well to work hard, and everything else fell into line.

Never before had her work, which was her life, been so terribly messy. She solved challenges practically and ensured the success of her assignments completely. There was always a purpose, which bade her to rise each morning and disown the sleeping hours in favor of a greater service.

Purpose of which she now had none. Her only directive was to watch and wait for a fight that might never come, and she found herself struggling to remember that. How does one go about shooting an invisible target? She had no clues and no ideas.

Sin was safe. Ava knew she would be, her death wasn’t in her file, but she knew Sara needed her own confirmation. Anyone with her history who trusted a stranger would find their own maker close behind.

Perhaps it was that which bothered Ava so much. The phantom offender bore the name consort. They were far from friends and never would be, and yet she felt as if they shared something intimate in a sense that struck loneliness deep into her bones.

Ava knew things about Sara that she had never dared to speak of. And there was not one person in this time and place that knew of Ava, truly, aside from Sara and of course Sin, who, while well meaning, was of little influence on her greater objective.

There was no protocol for desolation. She found herself missing Rip terribly and perhaps Gary even more so, for no reason other than the simple yearning for the companionship of one who did not make their decisions on the base of archaic rules.

The Glades were perhaps one of the loneliest places she had been thus far. She knew people lived here. Not as many as before the earthquake, but a good deal nonetheless, and yet rarely was a soul ever seen. She might as well be living in a ghost town. She felt a ghost herself.

The thought was chilling, and she was suddenly glad to have Sara behind her as they climbed the steps to her apartment. Although she often felt as if Sara was somewhere far away, it was still slightly better than being completely alone. Only slightly, of course, but it was something.

It was just a little bit jarring to hear the abrasive clang, clang, clang underneath her shoes as they walked across the balcony. Ava found herself distracted by it, so perhaps that was why she didn’t realize they were less alone than she thought.

A cold chill ran through her as she pushed open the door. Her apartment looked as if a tornado had swept through it. Her dining table was overturned, her chairs lay in pieces on the tile, and the doors of her cabinets had been carelessly torn off.

“Someone had a party,” Sara sneered. Ava turned to meet her eyes with what she could only imagine was shock, and it was enough to make Sara realize that now was not the time for games. Something was very, very wrong.

Part of her wanted to yell, part of her wanted to run, but she could only do what she knew to do best. Forget her fears and focus on the facts.

Her television had been ripped off the wall. It was face down in a pool of shattered glass and cut wires. The cushions had been pulled apart and the couches themselves flipped over. Under the mess, Ava could see bits of broken drawer and shards of colored glass.

Her things. Her shoebox full of things, that she loved so much and kept with her always, had been smashed into bits. Tears, irrational and cumbersome, began to prick at the corners of her eyes, and she pushed them back as much as she could.

She would sooner die than let Sara see her cry.

It was then that she remembered her bunker. It held enough weaponry to construct a serious crime and enough information to expose the agency and all of its acquaintances.

Ava thought at first that she might have been robbed, but the more she thought on it, the less sense was made. A burglar would have stole the television, the furniture, and the food, not destroyed it.

One capable of disabling her security system surely sought much worse things. No matter how resourceful, no criminal in Starling City could crack what would not be invented for centuries to come. 

Ava knew of exactly one person who could.

She flew down the hall to the bedroom door. Someone had thrown it open hard enough for the knob to punch a hole in the wall behind it. She couldn’t even see her bed underneath the mess of clothes and shoes that weren’t actually hers.

It was strange, to be stolen of that which was never yours to begin with. Things could be replaced. Her souvenirs could not, but as much as it hurt, there would be no greater consequence for the loss of such things.

Bureau information, however, was far more precious. Ava found her way to the closest the best she could, ignoring the shaking in her hands as she threw aside blazers and heels and pillows from the bed.

The closet doors were wide open, and it looked just as messy as the rest of it all, but the shoe rack, though empty, was still in its place. It was both somewhat relieving and a little bit haunting, to have one thing in its place when nothing else was.

Ava dropped to her knees, smearing dirt across the blouse on the floor. She felt for the keypad behind the shelf. It seemed no different than before, but that only meant that it had not been tampered with. She might be opening the door to an ambush.

But surely Sara had dealt with many before - surely, she had been on the attacking end of them more often than not - and Ava was fully confident in her ability to handle herself in the field. Without thinking more on it, she punched in the code, and let the bunker door slide open.

“Holy shit!”

Ava jumped at the noise. She had half forgotten Sara was there at all, let alone right behind her, and it nearly scared her half to death. Sara, however, seemed wholly unconcerned with that state of the apartment.

“You never told me you had a secret lair in your closet,” Sara complained.

“Why would I tell you that?” Ava asked, getting to her feet. If anyone was inside, they knew she were there now. She would have glared at Sara if she wasn’t so focused on the room in front of her. She stilled and scanned the space, looking carefully, listening closely, for any sign that something was off.

There was nothing. Everything was as she had left it, and no warning bells ignited her instincts. She moved to check the trunks and drawers, looking behind corners where someone might hide, but it was apparent that no one had been here. Her secret had not been found out.

Ava closed the weapons trunk with relief. This, at least, was safe. Safe from time terrorists, at least. Sara’s curiosity was another matter entirely.

“I’m gonna call you Aslan,” Sara said. She was stood in the doorway like a child in a candy store, her eyes roaming the room that echoed every time someone spoke.

Ava groaned. “Please, for the love of god, do not call me Aslan.”

“Too late,” Sara snickered. “Seriously, though, this is wild.”

Ava sat on the edge of the trunk, her arms crossed in front of her. She had been prepared for a fight and instead got someone who seemingly had the self control of a toddler.

“Nanda Parbat has hundreds of secret rooms,” Ava said.

“Well, yeah, but this is different.” There was a darkness in Sara’s eyes at the mention of the League, and she quickly changed the subject. “Do you think it was a break in?”

Ava shook her head. “No, I doubt it.” She could think of only one person who had both cause and capability to cause such destruction.

“It was Sylas,” Ava realized. She hadn’t fully put the pieces together until now, but there was no one else it could be. She was glad he hadn’t found the bunker, but it surely wouldn’t be long until he returned. Ava had no idea what he was looking for.

She found her personal cell in her pocket and hit the first speed dial.

“What’re you doing?” Sara asked, walking closer. Ava saw her eyes land on the weapons bar on the wall, but they didn’t linger.

“Calling my boss,” Ava explained. He needed to know about this, but if she were honest with herself, she just wanted to hear a familiar voice.

She got worried when the phone rang and rang and rang, but eventually she heard the click of the call connecting, and a scruffy voice shortly after. “Ava?”

“Director Hunter,” she answered, using the voice she reserved for business affairs, “I have cause to believe Declan Sylas discovered my apartment. The bunker remains secure.”

“Hey,” Sara interrupted, “I’ve got some questions for you.” She sounded angry, but of all the times to be mad at Rip, now was not one of them. 

Ava covered the microphone with her hand. “It’s not on speaker, he can’t hear you.”

“Then put it on speaker,” Sara commanded. Ava complied only to avoid the temper tantrum brewing in her eyes.

“Miss Lance is with me,” she said, although the formality felt foreign in her mouth.

“Sara’s with you?” Ava felt a pang of jealousy. Rip said her name with so much weight, as if it alone would tip some invisible scale between them all.

She had never understood his fondness for Sara. She knew he spent much time with her, before the bureau was formed, and that she had been a legend under his command, but she was the reason their work was needed in the first place.

“Do you wanna tell me why your lackey’s been stalking me?” Sara asked.

“Not particularly,” Rip answered. He seemed to remember himself, and the gruff and scatterbrained director returned. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Ava said. Sara was obviously not fine, but that was less a product of circumstance than it was a result of assassinship. “Sylas was looking for something, but I don’t think he found it. There’s nothing missing that I could see.”

“He found you?” Rip sounded concerned.

Ava shook her head. “I wasn’t here when he broke in. The bunker seems fine, but the security system is -”

“Severely damaged.”

“Totally fucked,” Sara said at the same time, drowning out her voice. Ava scowled at her, but she heard Rip laughing on the other end of the line. He was never as bothered by the legends as the rest of the agency.

“I need a new base, somewhere where Sylas can’t find it,” Ava said. She needed to move her intel before Sylas came back for it.

“Do you have any ideas?”

Ava thought over ever street she had passed by, which was a small pool to begin with, but she couldn’t think of anything less out of the way than the Glades, aside from somewhere that was actually out of the way.

“The forest outside the city. There’s no way to haul enough equipment to break bureau security all the way out there without making a scene.” A cabin in the woods was a little bit creepy, and far less sanitary than Ava would like, but it would work.

The line was quiet, except for the sound of someone typing, and Ava waited patiently for Rip to finish whatever he was working on. Sara sat down next to her, and her mind seemed to wander, but she didn’t say anything, so Ava let her be.

After a few minutes, the typing stopped. “I’ll set everything up. Gary is on assignment now, but he should be back soon to help you.”

“Gary?” Sara half whispered.

“Agent Green is my assistant,” Ava whispered back.

Sara snickered. “Of course you have an assistant.”

Ava ignored her. “That’s fine, I need to run a few errands anyways. Ask him to call me when he returns, please.”

“Errands to where?” Rip asked. Ava could tell by his tone that this was less relevant to the mission and more a question of curiosity. Slow days at the office with him was as close to casual conversation as Ava ever had.

“I need a car.” It felt more weird than it should to say I when this was becoming more and more of a we situation. “And probably groceries. My food is all over the floor. Oh, and I need to take Sara home, because she seems physically incapable of doing anything herself.”

“Anything that costs money,” Sara added. “Local vigilante isn’t exactly a high paying job.”

“I can’t imagine so,” Rip said. “It’s probably best you two stick together anyways. Sylas is still at large.”

“I can handle myself,” Sara argued.

“I’m well aware of that, believe me. It’s not for your sake.” The bureau still had practically nothing to go on, which was part of the reason Ava was here. She could only hope that this attack would somehow lead her back to him.

“I’ll let you know if I find anything else,” she said, before ending the call. She didn’t really know how to finish the conversation. It was a strange line to walk, with Sara here, and her here too, away from Rip and everybody else.

These last few days had been so different and so busy than anything else she had before. At the agency, everything was so clear. Even when nothing else made sense, she knew what she needed to do, and it was always foremost in her mind.

Now, for the first time in her life, things weren’t so black and white. Maybe it was the dull, everlasting gray of the city, or the people she met within it, but the few days past seemed much longer than she knew they really were.

The loneliness was still there. The aching in her soul that she felt whenever she strayed too far away from the job that was her home and family, but its thumping heartbeat was quieted by curiosity for what she was hesitant to call her life in Starling City.

She hadn’t wanted this. She almost felt like she was losing who she was. Ava reminded herself that this was, after all, a mission, and she would always do her best to complete it. That was who she was. Nothing that happened here was going to change that.

She did, however, need to change her clothes. Ava made for the door, picking up and sorting through the clothes on the closet floor as she talked to Sara. 

“Where’s the nearest car dealership?” There were a few nice dresses, too fancy to wear casually, and a some slightly wrinkled pairs of trousers. She folded a black pair over her arm and set the rest down in a pile. She’d have to deal with that later.

“Bad idea,” Sara answered, seemingly to finally focus on what was in front of her. “We should go across town.”

“We?”

“You’re my ride home,” Sara reminded her. Ava had almost forgotten. 

“Right. Help me find a shirt, then.” She had started to move past the closet into the rest of the mess that covered the floor.

She thought it would be easy to find a decent shirt. She was right, but finding the jacket that matched her pants was a different story. Everything she picked up seemed to be a slightly different shade of black, and it was making her mad. She liked things to match.

Sara hadn’t come to help her, either, which was annoying, but not surprising. When she looked back into the bunker, she expected to see her lollygagging inside or playing with the bo staff, not standing in the doorway in her bra.

“Sara!” Ava squealed. She meant to sound imposing, but her embarrassment got the best of her, and she wheeled around before her eyes had a chance to focus. “Put your shirt back on. Now.”

“I found a shirt,” Sara giggled. 

“I meant,” Ava said, adamantly focused on the wall in front of her, “from the floor.” She could feel herself blushing, and she crossed her arms, grasping at the straws of dignity.

“What? I need to change too.”

“You have your own clothes.”

“Yeah, but those are no fun. What about this one?” Sara sounded slightly more serious, but Ava did not dare turn around.

“Is your shirt back on?”

“Why don’t you turn around and find out?” Sara suggested. Ava had nothing to go on except her voice, which was unhelpful at best. She sounded younger somehow, and Ava didn’t know why.

Ava turned around only because she knew arguing with Sara was a lost cause. She was standing there with her hands on her hips. She held her pullover with one hand and a blouse in the other, but neither were on her body.

Sara tossed her gray hoodie onto the bed and smoothed the other shirt out, holding it up by her shoulders so it covered her chest. It was dark blue, with flared sleeves and waves of fabric that tied above the collar bone.

“It’s not really your style,” Ava said. “Grunge isn’t in the bureau dress code.”

“Hey, don’t be mean just because you’re embarrassed.”

“What? I’m not embarrassed.”

“Oh really? That’s not why you won’t look me in the eye?”

She wasn’t going to let herself be pushed around. Ava dropped her gaze to meet Sara’s bright blue eyes. There was something burning there, something deeper than the usual cold defensiveness, but Ava couldn’t place it.

She wondered if she would ever learn to read Sara, or if she would have Sylas in handcuffs before she even scratched the surface.

She was distracted by her wandering thoughts when Sara let go of the shirt and, on instinct, Ava’s eyes followed the movement.

She could see now the line of lace that outlined her black bra. Her skin was smooth, paler than Ava’s, with freckles all across it like a map of stars. Heat burned in her cheeks, but she couldn’t stop herself from following the smooth lines of muscle across Sara’s stomach, hard and strong, like chiseled marble.

She barely even noticed Sara slinking closer until she was inches away, staring into Ava’s eyes all the while.

“See something you like?” Sara murmured. She was teasing, but the low, sultry swing of her voice made Ava’s stomach flip is ways it definitely shouldn’t.

She was sure her face was bright red by now. “Knock it off,” was all she could manage to stutter, gently pushing Sara away to try and stop the sunset colored fog that captivated her senses.

Freed for the moment, Ava looked anywhere but Sara, and spotted the matching blazer and a dark red undershirt near the foot of her bed. She grabbed it off the floor and started smoothing it out, trying to ignore the stuttering of her heart.

“I’m going to change in the bathroom,” Ava said to the wall, not really caring if it reached Sara behind her. “You better be dressed by the time I get back.”

She could still feel Sara’s eyes on her, those piercing, deep blue eyes that seemed to say so much, as she made her way to the bathroom. It was as much of a mess as the rest of the apartment, but Ava didn’t care - all she wanted was room to breathe.

She shut the door a little louder than she needed to. Ava leaned against it, trying to steady her heart. She was being ridiculous. Of all the people in the world, she should be able to handle a little mischief from Sara Lance.

And besides. There was absolutely no way she could ever fall for her.


	11. Fast Car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was she helpless? Not exactly. She liked to pretend this was her choice, the isolation and the pain, because it was easier to handle. She could soothe herself with the phantom of nobility and continue on another day.
> 
> One day, this would end. Sin would grow up and find a family, and she would be okay. Sara helped her when she could. But there was nothing left in this life for herself. Nothing left and no one else to blame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I have much to say both before and after this chapter, so please bear with me.
> 
> I'm updating now because I have several projects and a show coming up, and I don't know if I'll have time to write or not. Expect irregular updates for the next few weeks.
> 
> I've switched to excerpt summaries because that seems to be the most popular style currently. I've also named each chapter after a Jasmine Thompson song or cover for the sake of organization.
> 
> The first part of this chapter is full of angst. Ava angst, Nyssa angst, Laurel angst, Sin angst...you have been warned. It is from Sara's point of view, so you all know how that goes, poor thing. Don't worry, it does have a happy ending.
> 
> Warnings for brief mentions of blood and violence. If you are okay with the shows, you should be okay to read this.
> 
> I'll let you get on with it! Please read the notes at the end, as I have a few things to say regarding the content of this chapter and the future of this story.
> 
> Thanks everyone! I hope you enjoy! Also, might I mention that tomorrow is update day for lucylikestowrite? Who's excited?

Splashes of reds and blues and greens painted the bedroom floor in bright pigments, making it hard for Sara to focus. The thumping of her heart overshadowed the sound of water landing on the acrylic shower floor in the bathroom across the hall.

Sara was hesitant to step away from the warmth Ava left behind. She wanted control, and taking off her clothes achieved it. She liked the way boys looked at her, like she meant something to somebody, like she mattered.

Lust is disingenuous. She knew that, and yet there were times when she was so desperate, it didn’t matter. When it came to Ava, she knew everything and Sara knew nothing, and it made her feel like she was a pawn on a chessboard she couldn’t see.

It was so satisfying to have to the upper hand. At last, she found Ava’s achilles heel. Who knew the stoic secret agent was attracted to women? Enough that it gave Sara power, and maybe even an edge in their incessant cold war.

There were feelings Sara refused to acknowledge; the pull she felt to be closer to her, closer than she needed to be; the way the colors of her face, cotton candy blue and bubble gum pink and the soft sandy waves of her long blonde hair, lingered in her mind for longer than they should.

She felt as if Ava could see into her soul when she looked at her. The softness of warm summer nights lived in her eyes, and sometimes all she could think about was to fall into the arctic fire and forget the rest of this barren and brittle world.

Loneliness made a stranger of her. She remembered the scent of smoky sandalwood candles that cast her shadow on stone walls, turning her dark brown hair and warm brown eyes into a faceless silhouette that undulated when she laughed.

Nyssa was the unfailing destination for her definition of home. In Starling City, she was born and raised and wanted, but of all her possessions, happiness was never among them.

Lian Yu was hellish. The League was, at time, was much worse, but the nights she spent with Nyssa were the only times when she dared to believe in something greater than herself.

To be with her beloved was to known the warmth of home. There were things that she wanted, and things that she missed, but when they were alone together, there was no yesterday and no tomorrow. Only the light of the moon and the safety of her arms.

Where was she now? Was she safe? Was she alone? Sara knew what it would do to her, to wake and find her gone without warning or explanation. Nyssa would search every room in the hidden city before she let herself believe Sara was really gone.

Sara abandoned her. She abandoned her in cold blood, and how her beloved suffered now was her fault. She just couldn’t take it anymore, and that was her fault, too. In the end, her weakness was her downfall, and she was left with nothing and no one.

Was she helpless? Not exactly. She liked to pretend this was her choice, the isolation and the pain, because it was easier to handle. She could soothe herself with the phantom of nobility and continue on another day.

One day, this would end. Sin would grow up and find a family, and she would be okay. Sara helped her when she could. But there was nothing left in this life for herself. Nothing left and no one else to blame.

“Sara?” She jumped, too lost in her thoughts to notice Ava standing in the doorway. Her wet hair was pulled back into a bun again. The suit looked nice on her, but she still seemed softer than she had before, less sharp around the edges.

“Are you okay?” Ava asked.

“Don’t you knock?” Sara scrubbed away her tears and turned around, searching the piles of clothes for something to pair with her jeans. She found a black jacket that zipped up the front and pulled it over her head.

“This is my house,” Ava said.

“Not anymore. Let’s go, I’m sick of taking cabs all the time.” Sara left, not waiting for Ava to close the bunker door or the front door. By the time Ava caught up, she was nearly at the corner, where a cab waited for them.

The car dealership was across town, and she watched out her window as the skyscrapers gave way to concrete complexes and light rail stations. The only thing she knew about cars was how to steal them, and Ava probably knew even less, but she supposed it didn’t matter as long as it ran.

The sky, though filled with dull grey clouds, was vast without the lacerations of the city skyline. Rows of brightly colored cars preceded the rectangular building with glass windows and brand names plastered on the sides.

Ava stood on the lot, waiting for Sara to come around the other side of the cab.

“Well, go on,” Sara said. “It’s your car.”

“It's the agency’s, technically. I don’t know where to start.” Ava looked out across the rainbow scape, her face scrunched in concentration.

“Walking in the right direction would probably help,” Sara suggested. She missed getting a rise out of Ava. It was easy and entertaining and familiar in a way that she wanted to hold on to.

Ava rolled her eyes, and Sara couldn’t help but smile. “I know that. I meant, there’s too many options.” Sara followed her down the rows of trucks and compacts and soccer mom vans, focusing more on the hard lines of Ava’s slightly wrinkled suit than the cars around them.

“We need something average. Inconspicuous. Like this one,” Ava said, gesturing to a smaller, off white car a few rows down.

“No.”

Ava turned to stare at her. “No?”

“No,” Sara repeated. Of all the models out there, of course Ava had to choose the one that Sara hated. Maybe hate was the wrong word, maybe it was guilt that was twisting in her gut, but hate was easier to stomach.

Laurel had a car just like it. She hadn’t gotten it until after Sara was declared dead, and every time she saw it, it reminded her of how wrong her life had gone. She was supposed to have Laurel’s old car and got a gravestone instead.

“Why not?” Ava put her hands on her hips, looking perplexed.

“It’s ugly. Pick a different one.” Ava didn’t need to know anything more about Sara than she already did.

“It’s fine,” Ava insisted. “What’s your issue?”

“I just don’t like it.” Sara crossed her arms over her chest, craving a barrier between herself and the uncomfortable gaze Ava cast upon her.

“Well, too bad. Let’s get this one.”

Ava wasn’t budging. Sara really did not want a reminder of what she had lost every time they went somewhere. It wasn’t that she was trying to forget her family. She never could. But the feelings she locked away were rattling in their box, and Sara feared they would break free.

“Laurel has that car,” she admitted, barely loud enough for Ava to hear.

“Oh.” Ava let her hands fall to her sides and turned back to the car, looking at it in a different light. When she turned back to Sara, there was something like pity written across her features, though it was well masked.

“You need to tell Laurel,” Ava said softly.

“What?” They had been talking about cars. Sara was lost.

“You need to tell her, Sara.” The stormy sky was reflected in her eyes. Cold wind gushed around them, blowing her tangled hair around her face, and she tightened her grip around herself.

Sara dropped her voice, suddenly aware of the openness of the lot. “Nobody knows except you and Sin, you know that. And Oliver, but that was an accident.” She couldn’t put a name to the look on Ava’s face, and it was starting to worry her.

“I just think…” Ava trailed off, unusually unsure of her words. “People don’t stick around forever.”

“Laurel’s not going anywhere,” Sara assured her. She had no idea why Ava was suddenly so concerned with her sister’s whereabouts. “She’s annoyingly enamoured with this hellscape.”

“Right. But just think about it, please,” Ava added, walking towards another row of cars. Sara shivered in the cold. Ava was being very strange, and it was a little bit haunting, for reasons Sara couldn’t place.

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” Sara said, not entirely sure if Ava was even paying attention. Sara never stopped thinking about it. That didn’t mean she would do it. She couldn’t. 

They walked for a little while in awkward silence. It settled between them that afternoon and hadn’t really gone away.

Ava seemed content to wander, studying all the makes and models and colors, and Sara followed, content to study Ava. She found herself missing the girl in the apartment, with messy clothes and long, wavy hair and smooth skin splashed with shades of pink and blue.

The business attire made her feel further away from that, although they certainly got along better now then they had a few days ago. Sara had to admit, her suit outlined the long lines of her body in a way that could have been attractive. Very attractive. If it wasn’t Ava.

“I like this one,” Ava said at last, pointing to a sleek car. It wasn’t compact, but it wasn’t a van either, with a third row of seats tucked neatly behind the second. Sara thought it was rather nice, with shiny black paint and silver accents, but it was average enough to blend in with the masses.

“Your cousin doesn’t drive one like this, do they?”

Sara rolled her eyes. “No, this one is fine.”

Ava went inside to deal with the salespeople while Sara waited outside, not wanting to be recognized. After a while Ava pulled up next to her, and Sara jumped in the passenger seat.

“The Queen Mansion, please,” Sara said dramatically. The seats were a smooth, dark leather, with ventilated cushions and that new car smell.

“You ought to start driving me, what with all I do for you,” Ava replied.

“How do you know I have a license?” Sara asked.

“You don’t have a license?”

“I do. I think. It's probably expired by now. If I ever got pulled over, I would probably be arrested anyways, for being dead.”

Ava glanced at her with that same haunted look in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything else. Sara chalked it up to her being weird and watched the buildings pass outside her window.

They drove past Starling City University, where Laurel did her undergrad and her mother taught history when she was younger. She hadn’t seen her mother in years. The guilt was too much.

The navigation system took them around the city, because going through traffic would take just as long, before it spit them out the other side. Sara watched the trees grow and thicken as they drove further away, until Ava pulled over near the path to the mansion garden.

“Keep going,” Sara said, “there’s a dirt lot up ahead you can park in.”

“You can’t get out here? You have your phone, right? Oliver must have a charger.”

Sara turned to look at Ava. “You’re coming with me.”

“And why would I do that?” The car was still running, underscoring their conversation with the quiet buzz of the engine.

“Where are you gonna go? Mars?”

“I have an apartment, Sara, you were just there.”

“You can’t go back there,” Sara insisted. How many times had she slit someone’s throat in their sleep? Far too many to count. It would be too easy for Sylas to do the same. Sara couldn’t handle any more blood on her hands.

“I can handle myself.” Ava unlocked the doors, expecting that to be the end of the conversation.

“Not when your unconscious,” Sara said. She unbuckled herself and got her knees under her so she could crawl across the center console, reaching across Ava to lock the doors.

“Sara, sit down!” Ava batted her hand away, but she persisted, holding Ava back with one arm while she pressed the button with the other. Sara sat back in her seat with her legs crossed under her, not bothering to buckle her belt.

“Drive,” Sara commanded, trying and failing to be serious.

Ava glared at her. “You’re a pain in the ass,” she grumbled, but she continued driving anyways. There lot in the woods was usually used for overflow during parties. No one would question a car parked there, if they could even see it through the trees.

They parked in the far corner. Sara got out and leaned against the door, waiting for Ava to come around. There were trees on all sides, except for the entrance to the lot, encompassing them in the sweet smell of the pines.

Saffron beams of light filtered down from the sky, casting clementine shadows that hit the forest in angular pieces. Birds sang their twilight songs, that Sara always missed when she was away, into the silence of the empty space.

It was peaceful here. There were no sirens or honking horns, no loud neighbors or late night alarms. These things were comforting when she was in the clock tower, the only company she could afford, but now she had better company to keep.

She could see the mansion behind her, rising high above the canopy. It looked less imposing in the light of the sunset, less a castle and more a cottage. Family dinners and weekly game nights were easier to imagine when it looked like this.

“You should let your hair down,” Sara suggested as Ava came around. “Life’s easier without a headache.”

“I wouldn’t know, having you around,” Ava said. She smoothed down her shift before dropping her car keys into her pocket. “Are you sure they won’t find us?”

“No,” Sara answered honestly, “but probably not. If they did they wouldn’t care. Oliver and Thea have friends over all the time.”

“Good, then we can go through the front door.” They walked side by side down the drive, Sara finding no protest. If she was careful, they could avoid Thea easily, and according to the news Moira was still in prison.

She felt strange being back in her room, not as a visitor, but as a resident. The last time she was hiding here, it was because she didn’t want Moira to know exactly how much time she was spending with Oliver. Now, all of that seemed like child’s play.

Sara was used to being busy. Ava was, too. Being alone together made her feel awkward, like she didn’t know how to handle herself. She usually tried to avoid alone time, and the haunting memories that came with it, but she was too exhausted to be worried now. And hungry.

“We should order in,” Sara said. She went to the drawer on her bedside that had lay untouched for years. Her old charger was still inside.

“They don't have a kitchen? Or three?” Ava was standing by the door with her hands behind her back, looking as lost as Sara felt.

“They do, but I think their cook would be surprised to see me.”

“Probably. Being dead is very inconvenient.” Ava frowned, as if she was taking this whole thing very seriously, and Sara found herself laughing.

It was serious, but it was also ridiculous. An estranged assassin and a time agent from the future were sitting in a teenage bedroom in an ancient mansion, both managing to get here just fine, and yet getting dinner and going to bed seemed some great obstacle.

When she looked up, Ava was giggling along with her. “Pizza or Chinese?”

“Pizza. It’s been way too long since I’ve had pizza,” Sara decided. 

Ava came to sit on the bed beside her, finally letting go of the tension between them. “You call. I don’t know what’s good.”

Sara ordered half pepperoni for herself and half cheese for Ava, who said her favorite topping was “whatever minimalized the atrocious health effects.” They were arguing over fast food when Ava’s phone lit up and an annoyed look crossed her face.

“What, Gary?” Sara sat near the top of the bed, leaning against the throw pillows, and Ava sat with her feet hanging off the side a few feet down.

“Hi, Gary!” Sara called, leaning over the phone that Ava put on speaker and set between them.

“Miss Lance?” The voice was pitched high, and when he talked it squeaked like a mouse on a wheel. Sara couldn’t fathom how someone as soft sounding as Gary would fair under Ava’s  
vicive command.

“I’m a bit busy, Gary,” Ava said. Sara was surprised that she thought so. A week ago, Ava was so desperate for her government offices that it practically dripped from every well ironed pantsuit, and now getting pizza with Sara was considered busy.

“Director Hunter wanted me to run over the details with you before construction started on the new safehouse,” he explained.

“The original bunker was more than sufficient.” She sounded more like herself, stoic and sure, as she gave Gary the information he needed. 

“I’ll need a garage and...three bedrooms. I need to able to work and live there for as long as this mission takes. As long as the security system is well disguised, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Three bedrooms. Ava was probably counting on agents staying when she needed them to, if they ever found a lead on Sylas. Maybe she could convince Ava to let her stay a night or two when sneaking around the mansion got old.

Sara listened to them talk for a while, trying to learn what she could, before going to wait for the delivery person at the door. She didn’t want the doorbell to alert one of the members of staff that there were two nefarious blondes hiding on the upper floors.

When she got back, pizza box in one hand and a stolen bottle of wine in the other, the closet door was wide open. She could hear Ava shuffling around inside, so she put food down on the dresser and went over to meet her.

Inside, there were rows of shelves on all sides, with poles underneath it from which clothes hung. Most of them were old, clothes that Moira and Thea didn’t wear anymore, but Sara recognized a couple of things she had brought with her and never got the change to bring home.

Ava was bent over, her head hidden between rows of shirts. Sara heard the opening and closing of boxes, and then she appeared with several stacked between her hands.

“I was looking for pajamas and got distracted. Do you mind?”

Sara shook her head. There was nothing personal in there that she might want to hide. She went to fetch the pizza and put it down between them, sitting against the door frame with a slice in her hand and her eyes on Ava.

She had sat down, too, and was going through the boxes one by one. She pulled out pairs of converse and ballet flats, tucking each back into the box once she was done, before finding a pair of black stilettos. 

“Are my heels still in the garden?”

“Yeah,” Sara answered. “You’ll have to go get them at some point.” Ava frowned at the idea and focused on putting them back in the box, side by side like at the store, and pushed the clothes aside to put them back underneath.

“Oh my god, what are those?” Ava gasped, grabbing a pair of bright pink, fluffy slippers from the back row. “Are these yours?”

“It was a long time ago, okay?” Sara groaned, putting her head in her hands. She had forgotten that those were in there, and now Ava was laughing at her.

“Wow. That’s something else.”

“Just...eat your pizza,” she grumbled. “I’m gonna go take a shower.” She was glad that the room had a private bathroom, so she wouldn’t have to wander around the house in a towel. There was a matching robe somewhere in the closet, but Sara didn’t dare wear it.

It was one of those fancy showers that had a built in lounge chair and about six different waterfall heads. She took her time, scrubbing the dirt off from the garden, and let the heat of the water wash away her troubles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. I have a lot to say.
> 
> I'm not a car person, so I apologize if that section of this chapter was inaccurate or boring. Originally it was even longer, but I decided to push it as much as I could because it's one of those things that was necessary but not terribly entertaining.
> 
> The dry lot in front of the mansion was created by me for the sake of the story. I imagine it to be one of those places that you don't see unless you know it's there.
> 
> Sara and Ava manage to sneak around the mansion because in the show, Oliver says that he is really the only one there besides the staff, because Moira is in jail and Thea is usually with Roy. Oliver is usually either out or asleep.
> 
> Sara's bedroom may turn into to something like the Room of Requirement. Between everything Sara had stored there before the accident and the staff keeping guest rooms guest ready, it has most things one would need regularly.
> 
> Because this is Sara's point of view, we missed Ava's thoughts. Ava was thinking of Laurel's death (Death? What death? Arrow who?) at the car dealership and the three bedrooms are for herself, Sara, and Sin. 
> 
> It just now occurred to me that Quentin is also technically dead, but I am electing to ignore that for now, partly because I'm still in denial and partly because ignoring the writer's terrible decisions is a fanfiction staple. Maybe we could save Laurel and Quentin? Would you guys like to see that or not? Please leave a comment sharing your opinion!
> 
> Everyone thank my wonderful friend Sybretooth for the meme. All joking aside, she lets me bounce a million ideas off of her every time I'm writing, so thanks bud!
> 
> Okay, that's everything relating to this chapter specifically. I have a few additional things to say:
> 
> I'm planning to continue our departure from canon as the story continues. Relevant canon scenes will be altered to fit the story, and irrelevant canon scenes (i.e. Mr. Fermentation's ego fluffing) will be skipped because I don't imagine that's what you guys want to see. 
> 
> If there's a specific scene or scenes you would like to keep, let me know and I will be sure to include it. Right now, the main alteration I have in mind is having Sara reveal herself to Laurel much sooner than canon, because we were robbed of canon Lance sisters content and I intend to change that. Sin is going to be tagging along too once she recovers.
> 
> Also, in canon, Sara kind of gets revenge on The Mayor for what he did to Sin? But it was delivered as another one of those Oliver Queen Is The Greatest Ever scenes so I promptly skipped over that. Do you guys want to see Sara take her revenge? Or would you rather skip it? If she did, it would be different from canon since canon sucks.
> 
> What would you guys like to see in Ava's cabin? Since it's being custom built, I can add anything you guys think should be there, so let me know what you would like to see.
> 
> Lastly, a note about comments! It occurred to me that those of you who aren't writers might not know what the big deal is. Comments let me know that people are reading! If writing out your thoughts is too much, that's okay! Even if it's just a smiley face, I know that someone is reading this and I'm not just writing into the void.
> 
> If you do have the time and energy to answer my questions and share your thoughts, I would love to hear what you have to say! I want this to be a collaborative piece.
> 
> Thanks so much! If you've read the entirety of this massive note, I'm very impressed. See you soon!


	12. Cherry Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come on, Ava. Are we seriously not gonna talk about this?” Sara sounded frustrated, or maybe angry. Ava couldn’t tell the difference.
> 
> “Talk about what?” Ava thought of several possibilities, but none of them made much sense. Sara crossed the room. Her hands pressed against Ava, pushing her back until she stepped down to the stair between the platform and the floor. The height difference was enough to bring her lips flush with Sara.
> 
> “About us,” Sara whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sundays will be our new update day.
> 
> I'm sorry this break was so long. I wrote several different versions of this chapter before settling on this one. I tried a new style, but I'm not sure how successful I was. If it's easier to read, please let me know, but if you miss my crazy run on sentences, please say so as well.
> 
> This chapter is soley conversational. The tangible plot will continue to move forward in the next chapter. Please be aware of the updated rating! It applies to both sexual scenes and references to trama. I will always have a trigger warning for each chapter specifically.
> 
> Trigger warning for mentions of alcohol, adult content, and past trauma.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I will have more notes at the end.

Storm clouds gathered outside the manor. Ava sat on the floor of the closet, listening to the rain. It was peaceful here. She had time to gather her thoughts without a thousand other things threatening to overwhelm her.

Sylas had found her. She always thought it would be the other way around. Years of memories lay broken on the floor, waiting for her to collect them. Ava planned to do it tomorrow. By then, the construction team would be here, and they could help her look for evidence Sylas might have left behind.

It was too late now. Ava found blankets on the closet shelf and brought them to the couch. She needed to ask Sara where the recycling bin was for the pizza box. She laid the blankets over the couch cushions until she heard the door open behind her.

“What are you doing?” Sara asked. Ava heard footsteps, and then a wooden drawer opening.

“Making my bed,” Ava answered.

“I’m not diseased.” Two more drawers opened and closed. “The bed is big enough for both of us. Besides, it’s not even late.”

Ava checked the time. The storm made it seem later than it actually was. Normally, Ava worked well into the night, but being with Sara was her work. She didn’t know what to do with herself.

“I brought wine,” Sara said.

“Did you?” Ava saw a crimson bottle on the dresser. “Where’d you get it from?”

“The kitchen. Ollie and Thea drink so much, the staff will never notice. I’m dressed now,” Sara added.

Ava finished laying the blankets and turned to face her. She dressed in a pale polka dot shirt, slightly too small for her, and matching shorts. Her blonde hair was a little bit darker when it was wet. Sara had combed it into straight locks on either side of her face.

“We do have to go to bed soon, though,” Ava said. “We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

Sara raised her eyebrow. “We?”

“Yes, we. This is a we situation. I’m your bodyguard, remember? And the one with a car.” Ava disagreed with the title bodyguard, but it was the best description she could think of.

“Right. I knew there was a reason I needed a drink. There’s pajamas in the drawer.” Sara brought the bottle to the nightstand and laid down on the bed. She pulled a bottle opener and the television remote from the drawer and got to work.

Ava dug through the dresser. She found a soft shirt and sweatpants, which only reached her calves, but they would do for one night. She changed in the bathroom to avoid any more awkward situations.

She thought of Sara when she was alone. That was becoming her normal, especially since their almost kiss in her apartment bedroom. Memories of their time together surrounded her idle mind. They wouldn’t leave no matter what. Ava wasn’t entirely sure she wanted them to.

“Do you have any board games?” Ava asked, after she finished changing. She needed something to do.

Sara smirked as she scrolled through channels. “Board games?

“What? Board games can be fun.”

“No, I don’t have any board games. Ollie and I had other things to do.” Sara looked at Ava, but Ava looked away. She didn’t want to encourage her.

“Are you gonna come sit with me, or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“I wasn’t staring,” Ava said. She was. She stared at Sara often. Ava could never quite discern what exactly it was Sara was saying, and what she actually meant. She was like an enigma. An enigma with abs.

“Come on, Ava. Are we seriously not gonna talk about this?” Sara sounded frustrated, or maybe angry. Ava couldn’t tell the difference.

“Talk about what?” Ava thought of several possibilities, but none of them made much sense. Sara crossed the room. Her hands pressed against Ava, pushing her back until she stepped down to the stair between the platform and the floor. The height difference was enough to bring her lips flush with Sara.

“About us,” Sara whispered. Her wine stained lips smelled of sweet cherry. Slowly, her fingertips trailed downwards, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Ava struggled to stay steady. The feeling was entrancing. She never wanted it to stop.

“Sara,” Ava warned.

“What? I know you like me, Ava. You stop breathing everytime I touch you.”

She was right. Ava never looked after herself when she was preoccupied. If Sara was anyone else, she would let things happen. She wanted to. But relationships were complicated when time travel was involved. Complicated because they weren’t supposed to happen.

“We can’t do this, Sara. This is my work.”

“That’s really all I am to you? Money?” Sara sounded more disappointed than hurt. Disappointed but not surprised.

“That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.”

Sara crossed her arms. “Tell me what you meant, then.”

“I mean…this is going to end. I have to go back home as soon as Sylas is arrested. They need me.” Ava wanted Sara to understand. She needed her to know what she was feeling. If this was her time, and her city, maybe things could happen between them. But it wasn’t.

“And you need them,” Sara said.

“Yeah.” Ava rubbed circles with her thumbs into her hands, trying to offer comfort. She took her time finding her words. “If this was my time, maybe things could be different. May-”

“Maybe you would kiss me?” Sara asked. Ava nodded, and she continued. “This doesn’t have to be forever, Ava. It can just be for tonight.”

“Could you really wake up tomorrow and just let it go?”

“Yes.” Sara seemed entirely confident.

“I’m not sure I could,” Ava confessed. She wanted to kiss her. She wanted to do more than that. She knew that if they kissed, the memory would never leave her. Not for all the weeks they spend together or the many months to follow.

Sara, still holding her hand, lead her to the bed and sat down. Ava followed. She wore a peculiar expression, like she wasn’t quite here, and Ava didn’t know how to bring her back. Ava rubbed gentle circles on her back until she was ready to speak.

“Whatever happens in the future...I can’t control that. And whatever happened in the past, I couldn’t predict that.”

She looked up at Ava with wide eyes. “But I’m not the girl on the yacht anymore. Or the island, or the league. I’m just...a girl. Sitting in front of you. Trying to be honest with you. Isn’t that enough?”

She looked so...innocent. Young and innocent. Not exactly childlike, but certainly not like the woman in her files. Ava had been trying to fit Sara into a box that was all the wrong shape.

A single tear escaped her shining eyes. Ava reached to wipe it away, and her hand lingered where it fell, softly caressing her pale skin. Sara softened at her touch. Her hands wrapped around Ava, pulling her closer until their foreheads touched.

“Just one kiss?” Sara whispered. Ava closed her eyes. She thought it might be easier to breathe, but all she could feel was Sara wrapped around her, holding her. She felt safe. Like nothing could hurt her now. Ava wanted to stay in her arms forever.

“Just one. I mean it,” Ava answered. One kiss was harmless. She could let herself go, just this once, and then she could move on from this.

Sara grabbed a handful of dirty blonde hair and pulled Ava in. Her lips were soft, sweet like honey and a little desperate. Ava let herself get lost in the kiss. Sara tugged on her hair, rocking her hips as her tongue pressed against her bottom lip.

Ava promised only one kiss, so she was determined to make it last. She opened her mouth, letting Sara explore and pushing against her in turn. Without letting go, Sara pulled Ava flush against her, lying down on the pillows so Ava was straddling her.

The sudden contact made her gasp. Sara bucked against her core, moving against her as her hands wandered lower. Ava let herself give in for one last moment. She kissed Sara hard, clawing fistfulls of the duvet as her core began to throb, before finally letting go.

“Ava,” Sara whined. She tugged on her hair. Ava let her head fall back, rolling her hips as the sensation overwhelmed her, but she did not give in. If she did, she would never stop.

“One kiss, Sara.”

“That was not one kiss,” Sara argued. She softened her grip. Her right hand pulled Ava close while her left trailed down her back with a feather light touch.

“Yes it was.” Ava rested her head against Sara. “That counts as one.”

“Fine, then this doesn’t count at all.” Sara nuzzled her jawline before kissing her neck. She went slowly, pressing one after the other in descendance. Each time she kissed harder, until Sara was sucking on the skin above her collarbone. There would be a bruise there tomorrow.

She didn’t mind. Sara felt wonderful, burning with a soft fire that made Ava grip Sara harder with her thighs. She felt Sara smile against her. Ava struggled to think. She knew she was supposed to be talking, but it took everything in her to stay above Sara, and not melt into her.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

Ava nodded. It took her a minute to find her words. “So good.” Sara pulled back to look at Ava. She pushed her back gently so she could sit up, taking her hands in her own and guiding the to the hem of her shirt.

“Touch me,” Sara commanded. Ava hesitated. She wanted to, oh, how she wanted to, but this was not what they were supposed to be doing. Rip would be flabbergasted.

“Ava. Stop worrying.” Sara brushed her wavy hair with her hands, giving her time to process her words. A serious expression crossed her face. “Only if you want to, though.”

“I do. I do want to.” Ava wanted Sara to know that. “But we shouldn’t. It’s not professional.”

Sara was quiet when she spoke. “It’s okay, Ava. There’s no one here but us. You can let go. Just for one night, let go.” Her voice was soft, soothing her worries, trying not to persuade but to comfort. She brought Ava close again, pressing delicate kisses around her mouth, letting her decide.

She was so kind. Ava, in her many fantasies, had always thought of Sara as a temptress. A dangerous siren who hypnotized her pray. Though she was certainly tempting, she seemed more concerned about her state of mind than anything else.

Perhaps, if Ava was honest with herself, there was more to this than just work. Perhaps she was scared. Scared to give up control, to let herself be seen and held and offered comfort that she never allowed herself. Perhaps she was scared because this was something she needed.

Ava took Sara in her hands and kissed her slowly. She took her time, pushing into her with fervor, seeking to quell the fire that burned everytime she closed her eyes. Sara started to squirm underneath her. Ava rose to her knees so Sara could have her way.

Sara laid down again. She spread her legs, pulling Ava against her so she was on top of her, putting pressure on her core.

“Fuck, Ava.” Sara bit her lip. Her expression twisted and her eyes closed.

Ava lifted herself up. “Sara? Are you okay?”

“No, come back,” Sara whined. “It feels good.”

Ava smiled. It was strange be be with Sara, like this. To hear her say what was on her mind, instead of the cryptic riddles that she usually got.

She leaned down to kiss her again. Ava let herself press into Sara, slowly, being sure that she was still comfortable.

Her hips rocked gently against her. Sara relaxed into the sensation, her kisses more clumsy, as her hands wandered down Ava’s back, holding her there.

Ava trailed kisses down Sara’s neck. She smelled sweet, like the first day of spring. Ava lingered longer than she needed to before continuing downward. Sara made a desperate noise when she sucked at her collarbone. Ava pressed extra hard and then kissed back up to her mouth.

Sara frowned at her. “Why’d you stop?”

She looked so genuinely frustrated that Ava laughed. “Your shirt was in the way!”

“Well, take it off, then.” Her voice was low, thick like smoke and honey. Ava pushed herself up. Sara’s legs tightened around her, holding her hips down.

“Stay.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Ava worried.

Sara brushed a lock of hair out of her face. “You’re not hurting me, baby. I want this. I want you.” Sara let Ava go. She wiggled until she was out from under her and sat up against the pillows. “Do you want me?”

Ava nodded. Of course she did.

“You say that, but you don’t seem like it.”

“No, I do. I’m just...not good at letting go.” There were questions she just couldn’t forget. What if someone found out? What if someone walked in on them? What if all her worrying ruined everything?

“Look at me,” Sara said. Ava complied, searching for answers in her icy eyes. “You worry too much.”

“I know.” Ava liked worrying. She never forgot anything if she was worrying about it. The effect of living in a constant state of anxiety was the one thing she avoided thinking about.

Sara looked at Ava with curious eyes. Ava let her. She felt exposed, like Sara could see all the questions that burned away her confidence, and she let her.

Sara spoke after a while. “Turn over. If you want to,” she added.

Ava looked at her mordantly. “I do.”

“Okay, then turn over.” They switched places, Ava lying on the bed, Sara sitting on top of her. Sara kissed her before taking her hands and guiding them to the hem of her shirt.

Ava pulled it over her head. Sara shook her hair out, letting the blonde locks fall over her bare chest. Ava trailed her hands up and down her arms, taking in everything she was with reverence.

She was so perfect. As beautiful as the most astonishing sunset and twice as breathtaking. The longer she looked, the more details she noticed.

The smattering of freckles across the curve of her chest. The hard line of muscle across her shoulders. Scars covered her skin in more places than Ava could count. Most of them were thin, crooked lines, as white as the moon, but there were a few angry red mountains that never fully healed.

Ava traced a three inch gash with her fingertip. “Does it hurt?”

Sara shook her head. Ava let her hands wander until they stilled over her heart. “Does it hurt here?”

She avoided the question by leaning down to kiss her. Ava tangled her hands in her hair, relaxing into the softness of her mouth and the grounding weight of her.

When she tasted saline on her lips, Sara pulled away. She lay her head down against Ava.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she whispered. Sara sounded beyond upset, or even desperate. She sounded broken. Like it was all she could do just to whisper those words.

Ava held her tight. She stroked her hair, letting her be in silence. She wouldn’t know where to start. Of all the things she had seen at the bureau, she knew nothing could compare to the horrors of the league. There was nothing she could do except give Sara what she asked.

“I know what I want,” Ava said.

Sara propped herself up on her elbow. “Oh?”

“I just want to hold you, for tonight. If you want to.”

Sara pulled the covers over them and laid back down, wrapping her arms around Ava. “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a baby gay who has never written adult content so if its awful please tell me. The many different drafts went to many different places, some less, some more. In the end I tried to just follow the characters and let them have a night to themselves. 
> 
> I also needed to switch perspectives and tried to get there without rushing too much. Ava is supposed to be leading this chapter but in this new style I struggled with getting inside her head so that might just be totally lost.
> 
> That is all I have to confess. The next chapter will hopefully be a little less awkward. Thank you so much to everyone who has left me a comment with your thoughts or even just a smiley face. It keeps this fic alive.
> 
> Many thanks to my dear friend Sybretooth who let me bounce a million ideas off of her despite the fact that half of them did not happen at all. You are a wonderful human bean.


	13. I Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sara.” Ava's voice called out to her, but she did not speak. She seemed frozen, as if she couldn't really see Sara. Sara reached out to her, trying to get her attention.
> 
> Her face turned sour. Ava suddenly looked devastated. She locked eyes with Sara as her mouth opened to speak. Instead of words, blood poured out of her, suffocating her by a crimson torrent.
> 
> Nyssa walked out from behind Ava. She wore her league regalia, and her face was mostly hidden by a black niqab. She held the handle of the knife in Ava's back.
> 
> “Look at what you have done, habibi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! I'm updating a day early because the new chapter is finished so I might as well.
> 
> So, I'm a liar. I said this chapter would be plot related, it isn't. I never get as far as I plan to in a chapter. The plot will continue tomorrow afternoon in the story timeline, whatever chapter that turns out to be.
> 
> This chapter is just Sara being sad for ten pages. Oops. Prepare yourself for angst. Trigger warning for graphic depictions of violence.

Sara awoke to a chill seeping through the pillows beneath her. The bedroom was filled with a smoky haze that sucked the color out of everything it touched. She watched, frozen by fear, as the billowing waves crawled closer to the bed where she lay.

Wispy hands with gnarled claws rose from the fog. They reached for the duvet, burning holes into the fabric that popped and sizzled and smelled of death.

Sara scrambled towards the head of the bed. The comforter, which had turned from baby pink to greenish gray, was pulled to the floor as the hands continued to climb, reaching for her.

She jumped off the bed and ran for the door. Sara didn’t consider what was happening. She only knew that she needed to escape. She reached for the knob and flung it open.

Ava was there. She wore one of her tight blue pantsuits, but her hair was down, falling in golden waves that shone brighter than they should. She was smiling. A wave of relief washed over Sara. If Ava was here, things would be okay.

“Sara.” Ava's voice called out to her, but she did not speak. She seemed frozen, as if she couldn't really see Sara. Sara reached out to her, trying to get her attention.

Her face turned sour. Ava suddenly looked devastated. She locked eyes with Sara as her mouth opened to speak. Instead of words, blood poured out of her, suffocating her by a crimson torrent.

Nyssa walked out from behind Ava. She wore her league regalia, and her face was mostly hidden by a black niqab. She held the handle of the knife in Ava's back.

“Look at what you have done, habibi.” She twisted the knife. Ava shrieked, but it was garbled by the blood pooling in her lungs, choking her from the inside out.

“No! Nyssa, no, please!” Sara pleaded through her sobs, but it was too late. Ava's blouse was dark red. When Nyssa pulled the knife from her she fell to the floor, lifeless.

“Ava!” Sara started towards her, needing to be by her side, but Nyssa pushed her away. She was fixated on something behind Sara.

“Look,” she said again, pointing to the bedroom. “Look at your legacy, Ta-er al-Sahfer.”

Sara couldn't bear it any longer. She turned around, half afraid of what she would see and half afraid not to see it. From the mist rose gruesome, half living bodies, disfigured by grotesque injuries.

At first, they were just zombies, but the longer Sara looked, the more familiar they seemed. She recognized the faces that limped closer. 

The son of a diplomat. He was barely a teenager and completely innocent. Sara had driven a dagger into the back of his skull after he awoke in the night, walked in on her murdering his father, and tried to run.

A single mother who left behind five young children. Sara suffocated her while her baby cried in the next room. Ra’s al Ghul told her to. That was all the information she ever got about why this woman deserved to die.

The healer of a nearby village, and several of his patients. His people broke away from their oppressive homes and built a new, peaceful settlement in an isolated part of the desert. Ra’s thought them too close to The Hidden City.

Sara killed the doctor while another assassin released a deadly virus. Within a week, several dozen men, women, and children died a slow and painful death. The myth of the cursed desert was maintained, at the cost of Sara’s soul.

The bodies of her victims ambled closer and closer. They came at her from all sides, reaching for her with bloody hands. Horror spurred her pounding heart. She turned away from them, trying to escaping, but there was a figure standing in the doorway.

Laurel. Laurel was there, but she wasn’t her Laurel. Her tawny hair was caked by blood that dribbled down her ghostly skin. Her eyes were sunken in, blackened and bruised, and her lips were split with gashes that covered her body.

“Sara,” she said. Her voice was barely a whisper. It broke as she spoke, full of misery and suffering and inescapable pain. “You know I’m next. You know, and you came back anyways. How could you do this to me? How could you be so selfish?”

Before Sara could answer, a gnarled hand wrapped itself around her neck and plunged a dagger into her heart.

She woke up screaming. Crying out for Laurel, for Ava, without fully knowing where she was or what was going on. She was in her bed in the Queen’s Mansion. It didn’t make any sense.

Sara scrambled to escape the blankets before they burned her. Laurel had just been there and now she wasn't. Everything was a blur of color that she couldn’t focus on through her panic. 

“Laurel, Laurel.” The words tumbled from her mouth without permission. She yanked open the door, searching for her, but nothing was there. Nothing but an empty hallway and a familiar voice behind her.

“Sara, it’s okay. You just had a nightmare. It’s okay.” Sara turned around. Ava was standing there, alive and well, but she looked all wrong. Instead of a suit, she wore pajamas that were made for someone much shorter than her. 

Sara took a breath. It hitched in her throat, and she struggled not to choke on it, gasping for air. She could feel moisture on her face, running down her cheeks. It tickled as it fell, and Sara wiped them away. Tears. She had been crying.

The sight of Ava with messy hair and pants that only came down to her calves was confusing enough to snap her out of it. She was in her bedroom, with Ava, and that was all. There was no one trying to hurt her now.

But that didn’t change reality. It was she who was the monster, she who was the gnarled hands that strangled in the night. The nightmare was real. And though Ava and Laurel were still alive, it was only a matter of time.

Laurel. Sara couldn’t shake the image of her. It was the middle of the night. She was safe in her apartment. Hopefully, she was sleeping. Maybe she was working. Maybe it would be better if she was.

There would come a day when she wasn’t. She would be asleep when they came for her. They would break into her apartment and slit her throat, and it would be Sara’s fault.

She was kidding herself being here. She always knew that she was, but she hadn’t wanted to face it. No amount of vigilantism could change the fate of those who betrayed the League. Sara was too weak to go back to them. Her weakness would be the end of Laurel’s life.

Sara was crying again. She turned towards the door so Ava couldn’t see. It infuriated her. She always seemed to be crying when she shouldn’t be. No wonder she was such a disaster. She couldn’t even control herself.

“Sara?” Ava’s voice was closer now. Sara felt the brush of a hand upon her shoulder, and before she could think, her hand was locked around Ava’s wrist, gripping down hard.

“Don’t.” She didn’t need anyone else interfering in her troubles. Ava looked concerned, staring at Sara with searching eyes, and she hated it. It felt too exposed.

She pushed past her. If she ignored Ava, she didn’t have to think about all the things she made her feel.

“Sara, wait a minute.”

“I have to go,” Sara said. She needed to see Laurel, and make sure she was okay, or at least get to the clock tower, where she could be alone.

The clock read two a.m. That was good. It would be dark outside for some time still. She went to the closet to get a change of clothes, but Ava moved in front of the door, blocking her path.

“Sara, just...wait a minute. Hold on.”

Sara crossed her arms. “You already said that.”

“You ignored me, so I’m saying it again. Here.” Ava held out her pajama shirt to her. Sara looked down and remembered that she fell asleep without a shirt on.

Her cheeks turned pink. She took her top and turned around to put it back on, trying not to let her embarrassment get in the way of her argument.

“I still need actual clothes to go outside,” Sara said.

“It’s two in the morning. And still raining.” Ava looked so caring and concerned that Sara could barely stand it. She unfolded Sara’s arms, letting them down at her sides, and brushed a lock of hair out of her face. “Talk to me.”

Sara couldn’t argue that there was nothing to talk about, so she just said, “No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to.”

“I think you need to,” Ava pressed.

“You’re not even from here. What would you know?” Sara was trying to get under her skin, to make her hurt enough to back off, but it wasn’t working.

Ava rolled her eyes. “At least give it an hour. If you still want to leave after that, fine.”

Sara would still want to leave in an hour. No amount of waiting would make her forget about her family. She had years upon years of doing nothing but waiting to show for that.

“Fine.” She didn’t know what to do now. Ava took her hand and lead her to the bed, picking up the blankets from where Sara had thrown them. She laid them out and then pulled them back, sitting down on the far side.

“Come sit with me. It’s cold,” Ava said.

Sara hesitated. She could still hear the crackle of the fabric as it burned.

“It’s just a blanket, Sara. It’s not going to hurt you.”

“I know that,” Sara snapped.

“Well then, come sit with me. Stop being so stubborn.”

She was cold. She walked around and got in bed, because there wasn’t really a good reason to not to. She could wait an hour in bed just as well as she could standing around shivering.

The blankets were warm, and Ava was warmer, but Sara stayed where she was. She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. Ava tucked the blankets around her and curled around her side, wrapping herself around Sara’s arm and laying her head beside Sara’s shoulder.

Sara let her eyes close. The heat of Ava was a comforting change from the coldness that had been there before. She couldn’t stop the horrors that played in her mind, but she couldn’t stop the tiredness either. She focused on her breath and waited for the hour to pass.

After a few minutes, Ava got restless. Her body disappeared from Sara’s side, and then there were hands around her face, brushing her hair, stroking her cheeks. Sara let her dote on her until she started fussing over the comforter.

“Ava.”

“You need to tell her,” Ava blurted out.

Sara opened her eyes and sat up. “What?”

Ava sat up too. She grabbed a pillow from behind her and put it in her lap. “You need to tell Laurel.”

Sara didn’t want to hear it. She’d gone over this a million times with herself, and even a few times with Ava and Sin. The further away she was from her family, the safer they would be.

“I can’t. I told you that.”

“Why?”

“I told you, before,” Sara insisted.

“No, you didn't. All you do is talk in circles.” Ava looked down at the pillow, fiddling with the thread at the ends. “Do you remember what you said, last night? Earlier tonight?”

Now that Ava mentioned it, there was a lot about last night that was easy to remember. The rosey color her cheeks turned when Sara called her out. The weight of her body pressed against her. The softness of her lips when they kissed, long and hard and without regret. It was the best night Sara had in months.

“Not particularly. I was a little bit distracted,” Sara admitted. She smiled as the memories washed over her.

“You told me to let go, just for this one night. And I did. For you.” Ava looked up at Sara with determination. “It’s still tonight. Now it’s your turn.”

Sara met her gaze. “I already put my shirt back on.”

“Oh my god, that’s not what I meant,” Ava said. She blushed, and Sara laughed, even as she caught the pillow Ava threw at her.

“If it’s still tonight, then I get to do this.” Sara scooted closer and pulled Ava in. She kissed her gently, and Ava kissed back, pushing against her and making her feel safe.

After a moment, Ava pulled away. “Seriously, Sara. Why don’t you want to see your sister?”

Sara grabbed the pillow and hugged it to her chest. Ava rubbed her arm, letting her take her time. Ava had a point. She was the one who had wanted this for them. It was only fair to give Ava answers when she was sitting in her bed, letting Sara kiss her.

She closed her eyes. It was easier to talk that way. “It’s not safe.”

“Laurel’s not safe?” When Sara nodded, Ava asked, “From who?”

“From me.” Sara stopped herself from going any further. Her eyes were burning with tears again. They kept coming back. They wouldn’t leave her alone. She buried her face in the pillow, hiding from watching eyes.

Ava pulled Sara into her lap. “It’s okay to cry, Sara.” Sara shook her head. She wanted to push it away, push everything away that was haunting her, but Ava was rocking her gently, rubbing her back like Laurel used to when she was upset, and it broke her.

Her body was wracked with sobs. Her mind was wracked with memories. Memories of when they were little, and Laurel wrapped her arm around her when they watched early morning cartoons together.

Laurel liked them because she was smart. She wanted something to think about while her parents got ready for work. Sara watched them because Laurel did, and she was her older sister. She wanted to be like her.

Her parents were wonderful, but they were also busy. When Sara needed someone, it was Laurel who was there. When she needed help with her math homework, when she wanted to show someone her new dance routine, when kids at school were being mean to her and she needed a friend.

It was never cool to let your little sister hang around, but Laurel did anyways. Even as they got older and started fighting all the time, when Sara really needed her, she was there.

And Laurel hated her. God, she must hate her so much. She never approved of her sneaking out, drinking and smoking and hanging around rude boys. Sara knew it was because Laurel just didn’t understand.

Life was easy for her. She was good in school. She got great grades and had lots of friends. She wanted to be a lawyer because she wanted to help people, and that want never wavered. She worked hard, but hard work came easy to her. Her parents adored her for it.

Sara just didn’t get it. It wasn’t even about the parties or the drugs. She just wanted to be happy. She looked for places where people forgot all of their bullshit for just a few hours and could just be themselves.

Honest. Real. Whoever you were, however you came, that was enough. Music and dancing and laughter, genuine, actual laughter that wasn’t marred by worries or should bes or ten pages of homework that amounted to nothing. What was so wrong about that?

Then there was Oliver. He was at every party she went to, and after a while, Sara fell for him, but the next thing she knew, he was going out with Laurel.

He was the epitome of everything Laurel hated, but Sara couldn’t ask her about it, because she hated her. Sara couldn’t just forget him either, so when he asked her to join him on his yacht, she said yes. Selfishly, she said yes.

As far as Laurel knew, that was how Sara died. In a way, it was. Whatever happened after that had been a symptom of survival. Her life ceased to be her own the day that ship went down.

Laurel would die because of it. Selfish and hated, selfish and hated, that was all Sara was now. Maybe that was all Sara had ever been, and she couldn’t stand closing her eyes and seeing Laurel in a coffin and knowing that it was all because of her.

“She’s gonna die, and it’s all my fault,” Sara sobbed.

“What? Laurel’s fine, Sara.” Ava’s voice was gentle. Sara leaned into her, needing to be held. Taking in the warmth of her more desperately than air.

Sara shook her head. Her tears were coming softer now, calming after the release that had been building inside her for so long. “They’re gonna kill her. And my dad.”

Ava was quite for a moment. “The League?”

Sara nodded. She didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. After her nightmare, her crying spell, and not actually sleeping for several days, she was exhausted. With Ava’s arms around her she felt safe and warm, and she felt herself drifting off.

“Don’t let go,” Sara asked.

Ava kissed her hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to stay right here, all night long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting with the next chapter, Laurel will be a prominent character. We're going to take the show writers' idea of having the sister relationship be implied rather than shown and put it in the garbage. Sin is going to join them as well, as soon as she is out of the hospital, which will theortically be next chapter as well but at the rate that I write who knows.
> 
> Many thanks! I hope you all are well. Thank you for reading and I will see you next week!


	14. Everybody Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more she learned about Sara, the less she knew. There was so much to her that she kept hidden. Seeing her now as she was, vulnerable and gentle, it was clear that she didn’t need a bodyguard. She needed a friend.
> 
> Therein lie the problem. Laurel needed protection, and Sara needed her sister, but none of those things could happen if each thought the other was dead. Ava was going to resolve that problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Please read the end notes because I have a question for you.
> 
> This chapter has a bit of herding cats going on. There is nothing particularly terrible or spectacular, just good old fashioned running around talking to people.
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoy!

The storm passed in the night. Ava was woken by the golden light of sunrise bleeding through the curtains. It was the first light of day. Sara was still asleep, tired out from her emotional night.

Ava almost felt guilty. It was hard to see someone she cared about so clearly in pain, knowing that she was the one who was making it worse, but she couldn’t ignore it any longer. Sara needed help. Ava was going to give it to her.

Sara was still sleeping soundly in her lap. Her cheeks were streaked with tear tracks, but she looked at peace, no longer plagued by whatever nightmares had frightened her. Ava wondered what she dreamt. 

Her back was stiff from sleeping in such an awkward position. She was sitting halfway up against a mountain of pillows. Ava stayed where she was. Sara was wrapped around her, and she was hesitant to disturb her.

This was the end of their night together. The whole point was to get over her, but Ava felt just as attached to Sara as she had before. Attached in a new way that she hadn’t been before.

The more she learned about Sara, the less she knew. There was so much to her that she kept hidden. Seeing her now as she was, vulnerable and gentle, it was clear that she didn’t need a bodyguard. She needed a friend.

Therein lie the problem. Laurel needed protection, and Sara needed her sister, but none of those things could happen if each thought the other was dead. Ava was going to resolve that problem.

There was no quick fix to such an issue. Whatever way she did it, it was going to be messy and unpleasant, and probably end up with both women angry at her, but it was necessary. It was what Sara needed to be okay again.

Ava untangled herself as gently as she could. She hated to leave her, but the sooner she saw Laurel, the better. She got ready in the bathroom and called Gary on her way out.

“Agent Sharpe?”

“Gary, I need you to text me a photo of Sara Lance circa twenty thirteen.” Ava wound her way down the many floors, trying to remember which doors Sara took.

“There isn’t one in her file?” Gary asked.

“I don’t have access to her file right now.” She paused to start the car. “How’s the cabin coming?”

“Great! I think. I'm getting ready to go there now.” He sounded excited. Ava looked forward to seeing him again.

“I’ll meet you there this afternoon. I need you to text me the address and, also, the twenty thirteen address of Laurel Lance.”

“Isn’t she dead?”

“Gary!”

“Sorry! You’ll have it in just a second.”

“Good. I’ll see you later. Thanks, Gary.” Ava hung up before he could ask any more questions. She didn’t want to think about what would become of Laurel, so she worried instead. Her plan lasted only as long as it took to get Laurel open the door. After that, who knew what would happen.

Laurel lived in a cozy apartment on the opposite side of the city. Ava parked in a guest spot in the parking garage and took the elevator up to the right floor, going over possibilities in her head. She didn’t know enough about Laurel to predict how the would react.

She’d want proof, which is why Ava asked for the photo. Convincing her that it wasn’t photoshop hopefully wouldn’t be too hard. Sara looked a lot different now than she did the last time Laurel saw her.

The chartreuse wall panels were framed by white wood and decorated with amber lamps. The carpet was a red and yellow diamond pattern that didn’t match. It was ugly and old, but relatively clean.

There was a brown window with transparent curtains and a fire alarm where Ava turned the corner. At the other end of the hall was a beige door with three zero five labeled in silver letters. Laurel was getting ready for work somewhere inside.

Ava knocked and waited. She flattened her shirt against her stomach and brushed through her hair with her fingers. She felt a little naked being out and about without her own things.

After a minute, an eye appeared in the peephole, and then the door opened. Ava had seen one picture in Sara’s file, and it was a picture taken many years from now. Laurel looked so different.

Her hair wasn’t blonde. It was brown, a russet sort of brown that shown red when the light hit it. She looked more girlish, like someone had erased the hard lines around her face, but her green eyes were just as inquisitive.

She frowned at Ava, looking her up and down. “Can I help you?”

Ava sighed. There was no easy way to say this, so she just got it over with. “Hi. My name is Agent Ava Sharpe. Your sister is alive.”

Surprise flitted across her face for only a moment before she blinked at Ava with spider leg mascara.

“I think you have the wrong apartment,” Laurel said. She began to close the door, but Ava stopped her.

“She’s at Oliver’s,” Ava said.

Laurel let go of the door, letting it swing open. Her eyebrows knitted together as she looked closer at Ava, like she was seeing her for the first time.

“Oliver Queen?”

“That’s the one.” Ava tried not to let her hostility get to her. She didn’t quite know what to do with herself, how to appear casual but not too casual and credible without looking arrogant, so she kept her arms at her sides, hoping Laurel wouldn’t notice her fiddling with her shirt.

“Look. You don’t have to believe me. I don’t expect you to. Drive over and see for yourself.” 

Laurel crossed her arms. “How do I know you're not trying to kidnap me?”

“If I was trying to kidnap you, why would I send you to Oliver’s house? You can drive your own car. You can even call Oliver and ask him.” She hadn’t thought of that until just now. Him, Sin, and Ava were the only ones who knew, besides Laurel.

It was a little bit weird to keep a person secret. It was easy for Ava, because the only people she knew, she knew through Sara.

Ava couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be surrounded by the people you grew up with without anyone knowing you even exist. If she walked through the halls of the bureau and no one even knew she was there, it would break her heart.

Laurel disappeared, and Ava thought she might close the door, but she returned with her cell phone a moment later. It rang a few times before a low, groggy voice answered.

“Hello?” Oliver croaked. He sounded half asleep.

“Oliver, there’s a woman at my door. You’re not hiding my sister in your house, are you? ” Laurel asked. She said it casually, like she’d gone through this before and come up empty.

Oliver was quiet for a long time. Silk sheets shuffled and wool blankets rustled, but that was all.

Laurel’s expression scrunched. “Ollie?”

“Is she tall? Blonde? Angry looking?” Oliver asked.

“Excuse me?” Ava said. She was not angry looking, she was authorative looking, which was different.

“Can I talk to her? Alone,” Oliver asked, ignoring Ava. 

Laurel handed Ava the phone. She stared at her inquisitively, not knowing what to make of her, and Ava retreated to a corner of the hallway to put some space between them.

“What?” Ava hissed. She didn’t appreciate him getting in the way of her plans.

“What the hell are you doing? Sara said she didn’t want to see her.”

“She needs to, and you know it.” Ava knew that this was a dirty move. Sara would be angry, and justifiably so, that Ava went behind her back and against her wishes. This was a case where Ava thought the ends justifies the means.

Oliver seemed to think so, too, because he didn't argue. Ava was almost disappointed - she was always ready to hold a mirror to entitled egotists - but he knew that she was right. Sara would never agree to this despite knowing there was no moving forward without her sister.

“Are we good?” Ava asked.

“Put Laurel on,” Oliver said. Ava put the phone on speaker again and walked back to where Laurel was waiting in the doorway.

“Oliver,” Laurel said, “is there something you want to tell me?”

“I think...maybe you should come over,” Oliver answered.

Laurel turned to look at something Ava couldn’t see. “Now? I’m getting ready for work.”

“Tell your boss you’re working from home today. You’ll want to see this.” Sara was a this. He was avoiding the situation, at least until Laurel saw for herself, and maybe that we the best thing to do when she couldn’t really understand it otherwise.

Laurel tensed at his suggestion. She obviously didn’t like the idea of calling out of work. Ava couldn’t remember what it was she did, but judging by the swanky black business suit she was wearing, it was probably important.

“Fine,” Laurel agreed. “This better be worth my time, Oliver Queen.”

“It is,” he said, and hung up. Neither he nor Ava wanted to continue this vague and awkward conversation any longer than they needed to.

Ava didn’t loiter. “I’ll see you there, Miss Lance.”

Laurel didn’t look entirely happy about that, but Ava didn’t give her time to argue. She took her time driving through the city and up the winding roads to The Queen Mansion. Now that Laurel was on her way, she was worried.

Between Sara reuniting with Laurel and being okay again was a painful bridge. Laurel would want to know where Sara had been for the past five years. How do you explain Lian Yu and The League of Assassins who spent most of their time in an office?

And then there was The Gambit. Oliver cheated on Laurel with Sara the day their boat went down. Laurel had every right to be furious at Sara, and Sara had every right to be furious at Ava. Furious and devastated.

Ava pulled into the dirt lot and waited. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting hints of pinks and yellows in the dark navy sky. Birds chirped merrily, unperturbed by the drama going on down below. It was the calm before the storm.

After the navy had faded into sapphire, and the top of the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon, Laurel pulled up a few spaces away.

“Who told you about the overflow lot?” Laurel asked, after they had gotten out.

“I know a lot of things.” Ava said, avoiding the question. If Laurel only knew how true that was. She would save that explanation for another day. Ava motioned for Laurel to go first down the path that led to the front door.

They walked under the stone awning and up to the dark double doors. Laurel pressed a button on the comm system that Ava hadn’t noticed before.

“Queen Mansion, how can I help you?” A kind voice with a Russian accent said through the speakers.

“Hi Raisa, it’s Laurel. Is Oliver in?”

“He is, but I believe he’s still asleep, Miss Lance.”

“That’s alright, he’s expecting me,” Laurel explained. The door opened and a short woman with pretty eyes and dark brown hair was standing there in a maid uniform. She smiled warmly at Laurel, and Laurel smiled back.

Raisa opened her arms, and Laurel gave her a hug. The two were obviously familiar with one another.

“It’s good to see you, Laurel,” Raisa said, fixing Laurel’s hair. “Can I get you anything? Would you like some breakfast?” She asked, looking first to Laurel and then at Ava.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Ava said. She wanted to introduce herself, but the less people who knew her, the better.

“I ate already. Thank you, though,” Laurel answered.

“Alright, well, you know where his room is.”

“I do. Thank you,” Laurel said.

Raisa retreated to the kitchen. The smell of freshly cooked eggs and juicy bacon wafted their way when she opened the door. It smelled delicious, but Ava was too nervous to even think about eating right now.

She followed Laurel up the grand staircase and through the halls. Laurel was quiet, at first, but her curiosity got the better of her.

“You said you’re an agent?” She asked, pausing on a wooden staircase. “An agent of what?”

“I’m a federal agent,” Ava said. She shuffled past Laurel and continued up the stairs. She just wanted to get this over with already, and she wanted to see Sara again. She heard the thump of footsteps as Laurel followed her.

“A federal agent of what?” When Ava turned the corner, Oliver was standing outside his door, still wearing expensive pajama pants and a Big Belly Burger tee shirt.

“Oliver,” Ava said, “nice pjs.” Ava would be grateful for the distraction, if he wasn’t so incredibly annoying in every way.

“You decided to do this just a little bit earlier than I would have liked,” Oliver muttered. “Hi, Laurel.”

“Oliver.” There was tension in their voices. Not anger, exactly, but something like awkwardness. Ava knew they had history, and this was technically history, but whatever was between them or not between them was none of her business.

“I’m going to go see her,” Ava said to Oliver. She wanted to warn Sara. Not to scare her, but to give her a minute to prepare herself. Just a minute. She didn’t want Sara to panic.

And besides that, she just wanted to see her again. She wanted to see her bright freckled skin and know that she was safe. Ava couldn’t protect her, from the world or from herself, but she could be there, in case Sara needed somewhere to hide.

“Where is she? Is she here?” Oliver asked.

“She said that you said she could stay. She’s in her old room.”

“ I did. I’ve just been busy.”

“That’s great,” Ava hurried. She didn’t care what he had been doing. “Why don’t you get dressed and...explain,” she suggested, motioning to Laurel. “I’ll talk to her.”

Oliver nodded, looking reluctantly at Laurel. They both knew this would not be pretty.

“Okay. We’ll be there in a minute,” he agreed.

“Be where?” Laurel asked. “What’s going on?”

Ava left Oliver to explain. Sara’s room was on the other end of the floor, in between several other guest rooms.

She opened the door quietly, trying not to wake her if she was still asleep. She wasn't. Sara was sitting on the bed, engrossed in her phone. She smiled when she saw Ava.

“There you are. When I woke up and you weren’t there, I got worried.”

“Sorry,” Ava said. She turned around the close the door so Sara wouldn’t see the guilt on her face. “I had to go get something.”

“Get what?” 

Ava turned back around. She looked so casual, sitting criss cross with bed hair and old pajamas. She had no idea what was coming.

“Don’t be mad at her. I did this because I think you needed this. You can’t move on without her, Sara.” Ava looked at the floor when she spoke.

Sara crossed the room to stand in front of Ava. She reached out to grab her hand but, remembering their deal, stopped herself.

“Without who? You’re kind of scaring me.”

Ava didn’t have time to an answer. There was a knock on the door, and Sara, wanting to know what was going on, opened it.

Her eyes grew wide when she saw her. “Laurel?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you prefer the next chapter to be from the perspective of Sara or Laurel? I'm not planning on writing Laurel's perspective on a regular basis, but I figured you guys might want something new, and the next chapter will be more about the sister relationship than anything else. If you're thirsty for even more Sara angst, I can do that too.
> 
> I'm sorry if this was a bit boring. It was a necessary but uneventful bridge to the next meaningful section of the story. Next chapter will hopefully be more interesting! Thanks as always to Sybretooth for being my fic buddy.


	15. The Power Of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You died,” Laurel stammered. “You died five years ago.”
> 
> Sara nodded. She had nothing to argue. The person she was did die that night, but she felt that she owed her sister answers. “Please, just...give me five minutes. I can explain.” Now that the moment was here, she desperately hoped she wouldn’t be rejected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dying you guys. I am a college student and finals week is upon me, and to top it off, a giant snowstorm has descended upon my tiny mountain town, messing everything up forever. It's going generally well but I feel like this week alone has been the longest month of my life, and I needed to put a pause on writing to focus on not dying completely. In a couple days the semester will be over and I have lots of time over break to make up for it.
> 
> Also, the midseason finale of our beloved show was tonight! I'm not going to spoil anything other than saying it was as wonderful and campy as this season ever has been and I love it so much. This show and you guys have brought me so much joy and it is going to be an incredibly difficult four month hiatus, but I'm here to help you guys get through it in whatever way I can.
> 
> Now, about this chapter: I wrote from the persepctive of Sara as requested. Thank you for all of your comments and other support, it really does make all the different. This chapter was really difficult, for the characters and for me as a writer. I think this moment is really important and there are a lot of different ways it could have gone while still being justified. In the show, this moment happens a lot later in the plot, and Laurel was probably a little bit drunk, so I did take those changes into account. I hope I did these characters justice, and please let me know what you think! There is a lot of dialogue going on but I felt it was all necessary.
> 
> Please be assured that this is not a one scene kind of deal; Laurel will be a regular character from here on out as much as is sensible. If there was something you felt was left out or ignored, let me know and I will definetely write it into future chapters. Also, please be aware that I am planning on including Laurel's struggle with addiction in her arc, but as usual each chapter will be tagged with warnings accordingly. This chapter is pretty pg.
> 
> Two housekeeping items: I changed the title of chapter fourteen because I just now realized it was a repeat, oops. I also feel the need to let you guys know that I am not the most reliable when it comes to updating every single week, you know that if you follow this story and I am so so grateful for your patience, but if I ever anticipate an extended absence or, gods forbid, abandonment of this story (which I don't not see happening in any way ever) I will let you guys know. I won't leave you wondering what happened or anything like that. 
> 
> If you're still reading I'm impressed! Thank you so so much for your support and please leave a comment letting me know what you thought! Be well and happy reading!

Laurel stood before her like a ghost come to life. Sara noticed bitterly how different she was from the image of her sister ingrained in her memory.

Her russet hair was shorter and curled instead of straightened. Her features were more mature than they were five years ago. She was wearing a business suit, like she always said she would when she finally became a lawyer.

Sara had seen her many times since her return, but it was different when Laurel was right in front of her. Her fear was overshadowed by shock. Somehow, in all the years Sara dreamed of seeing her again, she never imagined how. 

She wanted Laurel to be safe. She wished she could apologize for everything she did to hurt her. The moments between now and then never crossed her mind, because Sara never believed they would come to pass. She never even knew if she would live to see tomorrow.

Tomorrow had come and gone, and there she was, close enough to touch. Laurel was pale and wide eyed. Sara had been dead to her for the last five years. She could only imagine how much of a shock this must be for her.

“You died,” Laurel stammered. “You died five years ago.”

Sara nodded. She had nothing to argue. The person she was did die that night, but she felt that she owed her sister answers. “Please, just...give me five minutes. I can explain.” Now that the moment was here, she desperately hoped she wouldn’t be rejected.

“Ava, can you give us a minute?” She was standing in the hallway with a guilty look on her face. It must have been her who had told Laurel she was here.

Sara had begged her not to. She struggled every day and night to protect herself. How could she protect her sister, now that she knew? Assassins were on their way, and now that they were together, their first target would be Laurel. Ava's betrayal could cost her sister her life.

Sara would deal with that later. Laurel was waiting for her to try and explain the impossible. Sara took her hand and lead her to the couch. It was awkward being in this house, where they both had so many different memories, and Sara didn’t know where to start.

Laurel looked furious. She was more intimidating now than she used to be, maybe because it had been so long since Sara had last seen her. She grabbed a throw pillow to anchor herself, unwilling to look her sister in the eyes.

Where did she start? On the ship, Sara supposed, but what then? Laurel could never understand what had happened on Lian Yu. She could never know where Sara went after that. The missing years of her life were unaccountable.

“Where the hell have you been,” Laurel snarled. Her voice sounded like bare feet walking through broken glass.

“I…” Sara started and then stopped. She had to say something. “After the ship went down, I ended up on an island and...bad things happened.” Sara buried her head in her hands and pulled at fistfulls of her hair, trying to keep the memories from overwhelming her.

“You were on that ship with Oliver. How could you do that to me, Sara?”

“I was young, I wasn’t thinking,” Sara blurted out. Those weren't excuses. She had no excuses. But she did have reasons, as silly and selfish as they were, she had reasons. “I knew that you knew that I liked him. I didn’t understand why you were suddenly together.”

“You’re blaming me for this?”

“No! Laurel, that’s not what I meant.” It felt strange to say her name. Not that she hadn’t before, a hundred times or more in the years Sara was away, but she had always been a memory. Now, she was in front of her, but everything was all wrong.

“What happened wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t up to me, either. I tried everything I could possibly think of to get back to you. I thought about you every single day.

Little things. Things that never mattered before, like what you had for dinner, or whether or not your bed was comfortable, or how school was going. I know you finished law school. You always said you would.”

Laurel was looking at her with a baffled expression and unblinking eyes. It felt so abrasive. Her sister had a way of getting under her skin, but this was different. They were strangers now.

Finally, she looked away. Sara watched the wheels turning in her head, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t think she had a right to anymore.

“Were you with him for all of those years?” Laurel asked.

“What? No, it wasn’t like that, at all.” Sara chose her words carefully, trying to give her sister what she deserved without saying too much. “There was an explosion, and when I woke up, I was floating at sea, on a piece of the wreckage.

I think it was an old door, or something, I don’t know. I remember...the sun. It was so bright. There was nothing but water anywhere I could see, except for a few pieces of the yacht that must have broken off when it went down.

It was so…I’d always thought of the ocean as peaceful, you know? But it wasn’t. The only sound was the waves hitting the wreckage, and it was horrible. My throat was so dry I could barely breathe. I could barely move because my skin was so raw and red.

I thought I was gonna die out there. I thought I was gonna lose my mind.” Sara’s voice hitched in her throat, but she had to keep going. She had to say everything now, or she never would.

“Out of the blue, I heard something else. A little yellow canary landed on the siding and it started to sing. I have no idea how it got there, and I have no idea where it went after that, but it made me think of you.”

“Dad got you one when you were ten,” Laurel said. She smiled at the memory. “It drove us crazy singing all night long.”

Sara nodded. “I looked up, and there was a ship on the horizon. It was like a miracle, but...it wasn’t. The ship was going to the island where Ollie washed up, so we ended up running into each other, when we were trying to find a way home.

We got seperated, though. I caught a ship headed for Asia thinking that once I was there I could just catch another one home. It ended up taking longer than I thought it would.

But I thought about you every day, Laurel. I just...needed to know that you were okay, whatever that meant. I needed to know that you were safe. That’s why I came back. 

I didn’t think you’d wanna see me after...everything that happened, so I kept my distance.” Laurel had stopped staring at her a while ago. She hid her face, looking at the chocolate flooring that she probably knew better than Sara did.

Sara reached for her hand. She wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but she remembered how close they used to be, and she missed it. Her skin was colder than she imagined.

“Look at me,” Sara murmured.

When Laurel shook her head, Sara squeezed her hand tighter, using her other to turn her face until their eyes met.

“Don’t you ever think that I abandoned you, okay?” Laurel’s face twisted ever so slightly, and Sara could tell she hit a nerve. “I would never do that to you. I love you. Whatever else happens, that will never change.”

Before Sara could blink, arms were around her. She tensed, her body locking up at the sudden vice around her, until she realized Laurel was hugging her. Hugging her tightly like she dreamed about every single night on that island.

“I missed you,” Laurel whispered.

“I missed you too.” Sara hugged her back fiercely, holding onto her like a lifeline. It felt good to be held. She closed her eyes, letting safety and warmth wash away every part of her that was hurting, if only for a moment.

There were tears on her cheeks when Laurel let go. Sara wiped them away with her thumb. “So you’re a real lawyer now? What’s that like? Is it everything you thought it would be?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “Yes, it is. I’m working as a prosecutor on Moira’s case, actually.”

“Oh.” Sara never knew how close they were, but she never imagined Laurel going after Oliver’s mother.

“It wasn’t up to me,” Laurel explained. “I was assigned the case. I couldn’t get out of it.”

“Do you think she’s guilty?”

“I think...there’s a lot more going on in this city than I realized.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Sara agreed. Laurel was capable of handling herself, but she never wanted her to compromise who she was for the sake of survival.

Sara, on the other hand, had made that compromise a long time ago. That meant giving up her integrity so that the people she loved didn’t have to. Ava had threatened that, and for what? Her own fucked up righteousness?

She had gotten Laurel through the initial shock, but that didn’t mean everything was suddenly okay. Sooner or later she would start asking more questions, and Sara couldn’t give her any more answers.

The league would come looking for her any day. What would she do when they went after Laurel? Sara would protect her, of course, but then Laurel would know who she really was. 

There was no way this could turn out well. Whatever happened, however it happened, she was doomed. That was Ava’s fault.

“Does dad know you’re back?” Laurel asked.

Sara shook her head. “No, he doesn’t, and please - don’t tell him.”

“Sara,” Laurel admonished.

“I know I should, and I will! I just...need time. I don’t wanna give him a heart attack or anything.”

“So now I’m supposed to keep your secret too?” Laurel didn’t sound angry, just perplexed, and Sara couldn’t blame her. “Who else knows?”

“Ollie, and Sin - do you know Sin? Tiny, black spikey hair. She hangs out with Thea and her boyfriend Roy sometimes.” When Laurel nodded, Sara continued, “and Ava. That’s it.”

“That’s that blonde woman? I don’t think I’ve seen her before.”

“She’s not from around here,” Sara explained. “I think. I don’t know her very well.” Sara thought that she did. It wasn’t that she trusted her - Sara never trusted anyone these days, not completely - but she had at least thought she would keep her secret.

“You don’t know her very well, but you told her your secret?

“I didn’t tell her. She found out.”

“So you wouldn’t have told her,” Laurel guessed. There was a pause, and when she spoke again her voice was quiet. “Would you have told me, if she didn’t? Ever?”

The answer was no, but Laurel looked so heartbroken that Sara nodded anyways. “I would have. Not right away, but I would have. Speaking of Ava, I think I need to talk to her.” Or tell her to fuck off forever, one of the two.

Laurel grabbed her hands before Sara got up. “Promise me you won’t disappear again. Promise me and mean it.”

“I won’t, Laurel,” Sara assured her, “I promise. Here.” She got up from the couch and grabbed her phone off the bedside dresser. “What’s your number now?”

“It’s the same as it used to be,” Laurel answered. “You could have called me. You could have at least let me know you were alive.”

Sara typed out a text so she didn’t have to meet Laurel’s eyes. She felt guilty, not just about Laurel, but about everything she’d done, and she deserved to, but it would be harder to keep a straight face around her sister if she let herself think about that.

She pressed send, and Laurel’s phone buzzed in her pocket. “There. Now you can call me, any time, and I’ll pick up. I promise. Unless I’m like, peeing or something, then you have to wait.”

“Ew, gross,” Laurel said, wrinkling her nose. Sara laughed at her expression, and when Laurel came over to give her a hug, she squeezed her tightly.

“I have to go to work,” Laurel grumbled. She pulled back and tucked a strand of hair behind Sara’s ear. “I’ll text you when I’m done. You better answer me, Sara, I swear to god.”

“I will. Don’t worry, I will.” It hurt to see Laurel go so soon, but a greater part of her was relieved. Relieved that she didn’t have to pretend for a little while, and that Laurel would be safe in her heavily guarded office building.

Ava and Oliver were still there when she opened the door. Sara said a final goodbye to Laurel, watching as she disappeared down the stairs before turning to face Ava’s guilty expression.

She normally looked so confident, tall and strong and untouchable, but now she looked so young. Ava was leaning against the cardinal walls with her hands behind her back. She shrunk under Sara’s glare, looking up at her from beneath blonde lashes.

“How did it go?” She asked quietly.

Sara wanted to say she couldn’t believe Ava would do this, but that would be a lie, so she cut to the chase. “Get out. I never want to see you again,” she hissed.

“Sara, she did you a favor,” Oliver argued. He looked a little surprised, as if Sara was still the girl on the boat and not an expert assassin.

“Stay out of this, Ollie.”

“This is my house.”

“Stay out of it,” Sara and Ava said together.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll be downstairs when you two are done bitching.”

Ava glared at him, but Sara didn’t care. Just last night it had been a blessing to be held in her arms, and now she wanted nothing to do with her.

“I asked you - I begged you - not to tell her.” Sara crossed her arms, putting a barrier between them.

Ava didn’t look at her. “Your health is more important than your ego, Sara.”

“And what about her? What the hell is Laurel going to do when The League comes after her?”

“She’s your sister, Sara! They’re going to kill her whether she knows about you or not!”

Silence fell between them as Ava’s words landed like a hammer on Sara’s chest. She was right, but to hear her say it made it all too real.

“Laurel has a much better chance with someone protecting her than without,” Ava continued in a gentler tone.

“What do you think I’ve been doing, Ava?”

“That’s what you’ve been doing? Protecting her from rooftops? From seven thousand miles away?”

“I thought you knew what it was like there,” Sara said. The more Ava talked, the less sure she was of what she thought she knew about her. It was unsettling.

“I do,” Ava assured her, “but not the specifics. I’m not going to pretend that I understand what you went through. I didn’t do this to hurt you. I did this because you weren’t sleeping and you were barely eating and it was better for you and better for Laurel.

If you hate me for it, fine. You were never meant to love me.” Ava put her hand on Sara’s arm, but it felt like hot coal against her skin, and she shrugged it off.

“I don’t love you,” Sara said. It burned as it came out, but it was easy enough to chalk her feelings up to lust and let her anger guide her. “I meant what I said. Stay away from me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tumblr! It is sparse because I just created it but if you'd like to contact me in an easier way or anonymously, you can find me here: https://avalangst.tumblr.com
> 
> Also, I have made a playlist of every song each chapter was named after, in order. They are all covers or original songs by Jasmine Thompson. My personal favorite is currently Cherry Wine (orignally by Hozier, patron saint of lesbians). What's yours? Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLrYigMiiIExFSWFe6ZzYrRa9xdQUMpDIM
> 
> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you want to, I'd appreciate it! Blessed Yule, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and happy otherwise holidays and seasons! Many thanks as always to my dear friend Sybretooth who always listens to my writing ideas.


	16. You Are My Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were shelves full of glassware and combat equipment. Standing in front of a computer rig in the center was a black man with short hair and a gray business shirt. He must be Oliver’s bodyguard and the Arrow’s sidekick, John Diggle.
> 
> There was a large light table in front of that. Felicity Smoak, wearing a long blonde ponytail and a floral dress, was standing on the left side of it. Oliver, in his green leather suit, stood on the right. Sara was in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! I'm sorry this chapter is so late. The spring semester is in full swing and I have twelve hour days every day, not including homework or studying or working. It's been hard to find the time to sleep or eat, let alone write, and I only finished this because one of my teachers got sick and class got cancelled, but I'm so glad I did.
> 
> I wrote this chapter over and over again. It took me a long time to figure out how to make it presentable, and I think part of that it because this is a bit of a weird one. It's really all about what Ava is going through, so unfortunately there isn't much in the way of plot. There's a lot of world building, a few fun conversations, and a decent dose of angst.
> 
> I think I'm finally happy with it, though. I hope you guys like it too! It is a little bit longer than usual.

The road before her stretched on, winding lazily through the pine forest until it disappeared into the mist on the horizon. It was peaceful here. It gave Ava time to think, which wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but maybe it was what she needed right now.

Sara was a haze, as thick and encompassing as the one that surrounded her now. When they were together, she was so, so clear, but everything else seemed further away. The longer she stayed here, the more her old life seemed...different, somehow. Shrouded in the smoke of time.

She was sure that when she returned home, it would fade. It always did. You go away for a week, or a month, and when you return, its as if you never left, right? None of this had to change anything. Sara was a job, just like all the other people she met once and would never see again.

The construction site was further into the forest, beyond the manors of the wealthy. Ava passed houses, campgrounds, and a few farms before turning down the grassy path her gps indicated. It was several more minutes until a clearing opened up at the end of the road.

There, beyond the sudden stop of trees, was a cabin. It was three stories tall, with tinted glass windows and taffy colored siding that seemed to run together like marbled caramel spilling over the crest of a waterfall.

The first floor had a pale concrete driveway leading to two garage doors. They were also wooden, with two rows of tinted windows across the top and handles on each side to pull them open horizontally.

The doors were framed by pillars on either side. Thin slabs of smokey stone lay on top of one another, creating a pale mosaic upon which porch lights shaped like torches were mounted. To the left, there was a little window, and then a tiered staircase to the second floor.

At the top was the front door, made with wood and windows like the garage, and covered by a roofed awning. Beyond that, the balcony looked over the clearing. There was a large bow window in the center of the house and a smaller one to the right.

The stairs to the third floor must be interior. The middle section had a big, flat window with a roof over it, and then another window to the left with a roof over that, and a then a third window, also with another roof. It was a dark brown color that complimented the paneling.

The sides of the house turned outward. On one side, a small balcony with a roof overhead pointed towards the west. Ava could see where the roof continued, beyond the windows in the middle, to cover the rest of the house. Solar panels were attached where the sun hit them.

The roundabout on the lawn was filled with black bureau vans. Several larger construction trucks were parked on the grass a little ways away. A man in a suit was talking to a group of construction workers in front of the stairs.

“Agent Sharpe!” Gary said, turning around when he heard her get out of the car. He beamed from ear to ear. It was nice to see him again. He reminded her of everything she worked so hard to accomplish over the years.

Ava smiled back at him as she approached. “Hi, Gary.” She briefly considered the fact that she was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, but Gary seemed unphased, so she tried to let it go for now.

Gary opened his arms towards the house. “Do you like it? It’s not finished yet, but almost.”

“I think it looks lovely,” Ava assured him. He had clearly but a lot of effort into this, and it payed off. It was cozy, but fancy enough that no one would question it, and most importantly, it blended in with the other cabins around here.

But there was someone missing. This safehouse was for all of them, including Sara. Ava wanted her to be here, to show her that she had somewhere she could go, now, when she needed it. Or wanted it. Or wanted...her.

She wouldn’t, especially considering what Ava did, but that didn’t stop Ava from missing her. As long as she had been in Starling City, Sara was at the forefront of her thoughts. Without her, she felt lost. Alone in a ancient cave with no torch to guide her.

“Agent Sharpe? Are you okay?” Gary asked, leaning in close to her face. 

Ava gently pushed him away. “I’m fine. I just have a lot of work to do. You said the cabin isn’t finished yet?”

“Not yet, but almost!” He ran up the stairs, waddling from side to side as he went, until he turned around on the landing. “Can I show you around?”

“Go ahead.” Ava followed him up the staircase. There walls on either side were topping with gray railing and pillars at the corners. The stone was smooth under her hand. A little brown sparrow sitting on the fence flew away when it was them coming.

Gary pulled the doors open. “It’s built and mostly furnished. There’s just a few rooms that aren’t decorated yet, and the security system needs to be installed”

The kitchen was on the left. The cabinets were gray, with smooth white countertops that had diamonds lain in a cross cross pattern. Higher up, more cabinets were mounted on an alabaster backsplash that looked bright against the cider colored walls.

A modern stove top was set into the island. The oven was across from that, and the silver fridge was at the end of the line, against the far wall. Across from the foyer, a wooden dining table with matching chairs sat on a rug in the shadow of the bow window, looking out onto the world.

To the right there was a quaint little bar. It matched the rest of the house, with four round stools and cabinets behind it. The living room was behind it, through a gap in the wall. On the other side, there was a stone fireplace, several meters wide, extending up through the ceiling.

Couches were arranged in a horseshoe in front of it around another rug. Beyond that, there was a small hallway with a staircase along the wall. Gary said that the room on the left was a bathroom and the room on the right was the laundry room.

“Do you like it?” Gary asked.

Ava nodded. “I do. It’s nice. You did a good job.” It was a little more permanent than Ava originally hoped for, but she was staring to accept that she might be spending more time here than she previously planned.

Gary showed her how the back of the linen closet opened to reveal a staircase. Ava could barely see; she had to hold on to the railing just to keep from falling over.

“It's creepy down here because the electricity isn't hooked up yet,” Gary explained. “The cabin runs on solar energy. I made sure all the construction materials were ethically sourced.”

Ava couldn’t see him, but he sounded happy. Gary seemed to genuinely enjoy having a project of his own. While she was here, he had taken on more responsibility, and Ava thought it was good for him. As long as it was measured.

The basement was dark, but there was dim light radiating from flashlights and lanterns here and there. She could see the outline of false panels on the far wall, which probably connected to the garage.

This room was bigger and the equipment more advanced. The walls and floor were insulated by the same cold, hard concrete. There was an extensive set up, with several desks, computers, and screens on the right.

It was sandwiched by tall, steel cabinets on either side. Ava guessed they were filled with whatever information might be useful in the case of a power issue. The rest of the space was filled with crates of extra storage, defensive weaponry, and training equipment. 

There was even a salmon ladder set up in the corner. It was everything she needed to catch the enemy, and somehow the dark, militant atmosphere was comforting, even if the windowless space was somewhat depressing.

Ava wondered what Sara would think of it. She asked for space, and Ava would give it to her. Not for forever, her job wouldn’t allow that, but for today. But she couldn’t help wondering if Sara was curled up in a corner somewhere, hurting, because of her.

The idea was killing her inside. She wanted to know that she was okay. That was Laurel’s job now, but Laurel had no idea what Sara had been through. In a weird, ironic way, Ava was the only one who did.

“How is the team doing?” Ava asked. She wanted something else to think about.

“Great!” Gary said. “Last week, when we were in medieval Paris, this one peasant started flirting with the fiftieth president…” He rattled on about his adventures, and Ava listened, not really caring about what had happened as much as that Gary seemed pleased about it.

It helped to pass the time. After he told her about everything that was happening at the bureau, with assurance that mission reports and agency reports would soon be coming her way, he started giving her ideas for the unfinished bedrooms on the third floor.

The sun rose to its peak and then started to fall. They bought lunch for all of the workers and laid out blankets on the lawn. Everywhere else in this city seemed to be covered in fog, but here the sun shown clearly, and Ava wanted to savor it while it lasted.

The head architect, Robert, talked to her about the plans to finish the house. Right now, a tech team was fitting the house with high level security measures, while the builders worked on a fence around the clearing that would attach to a locked gate across the drive.

They planned to pave the road and plant a little garden. Ava drove Gary into town to look at flower shops, and they ended up wandering through several home stores as well. Despite the mess in Ava’s life, in terms of bureau affairs, everything seemed to be in order.

Most importantly, Ava had managed to pass a decent chunk of time with relatively little disruption. The occasional thought slipped in - wondering what Sara’s favorite flower was, or whether or not she liked camping - but she tried not to dwell on it, and usually succeeded.

At least, until the sun started to set. By dinner time, it was hard to keep listening, even though Gary somehow never ran out of things to tell her. She wanted to support him, but she also longed for a quiet room with a rainy window and some time to herself.

And work. All of this running around was technically work, but she didn’t really do anything, and it was making her antsy. There was nothing worse than having hours upon hours set in front of you and doing exactly nothing with them.

She went back to the house only because she didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Her apartment was kaput, Sara hated her, and even though the cabin was built for her, it wasn’t really hers. It was bureau property meant only for her mission.

There were still people everywhere, but lucky for her, they had finished installing the security tech while she was out. Strangers milled around the first floor, but the basement was thankfully empty.

Whatever Sara was going through - though it was surely more than she deserved - she still needed to be watched over until the Sylas issue passed. Ava needed to talk to her.

She booted up the computer. It was a hefty set up, packed with a monstrous amount of processing power, so it took a minute to get everything up and running. She spun in her chair while she waited, but only because no one was watching.

Oliver Queen’s file was extensive, with hundreds of pages on all his insufferable exploits that Ava really didn’t care about. She sorted through it anyways. When Sara was upset she went vigilanting, and this time of day she would probably be with the Arrow.

Finding The Black Canary. That was always the issue. Sin had helped her out last time, but she was still in the hospital, and Ava didn’t want to bother her with her somewhat selfish exodus. Besides, with everything they knew about Oliver, he wasn’t hard to find.

She cross referenced the time period to the Arrow’s activities. He was apparently hiding out beneath Verdant, the scrappy nightclub he put together on the skirts of the Glades. Ava hoped there was a side entrance so she didn’t have to wade through a thousand sweaty strangers who probably smelled like weed and cheap alcohol.

In a truck against the far wall, she found a hacking device for cracking electronic door locks. As rich as Oliver was, he could afford a decent system, but his idiocy made up for any doubt Ava had when it came to breaking in.

Ava also picked up a weapons belt and strapped it beneath her shirt. There was lots to choose from. She slid a collapsible bo staff into one of the loops. It was a weapon she preferred - effective, but relatively difficult to cause unnecessary damage - but she picked up a couple other things as well, just in case.

A few different knives. Pepper spray, in case someone less sophisticated tried to jump her on the streets. A taster, in case she somehow got into real trouble.

It was a bit of a drive into the city. The gentle, winding roads through the forest were peaceful, especially under the smooth wheels of her new car, but she hit rush hour traffic as soon as the skyscrapers came into view.

It reminded her of the daily grind back home. The obnoxious honking of horns and occasional scrape of tires was familiar, and there was comfort in the that.

She did hate waiting though. She was heading all the way on the other side of the city, through the worst of it, so she pulled into the hospital to check on Sin. It would give her something to do  
while traffic passed.

It took quite a few laps around the lot before she caught someone leaving and pulled into their space. Inside, people were bustling every which way, bringing dinner and flowers to loved ones as nurses ran their afternoon rounds.

Upstairs, Sin was sleeping. She looked better. Her skin was less pale and the bruises scattered across her body were starting to heal. She was still hooked up to ivs and equipment, but not as many as she had been before.

Ava leaned against the doorway. She didn’t want to linger too long, at the risk of being creepy, but she wasn’t in any rush either. She’d probably find Sara faster if she waited half an hour for the roads to clear.

She turned away, planning to find a bench to sit on for a while, but Sin woke up before she could leave.

“Ava?” Her voice was quiet, but she sounded like herself again, no longer clouded by such heavy drugs.

“Hi. I’m leaving,” Ava said, gesturing over her shoulder. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. But you should rest.”

“Don’t go,” Sin frowned, reaching out her hand despite the distance between them, “I’ve been sleeping all day, I’m bored out of my mind. Sara said yesterday that she might come visit, but she hasn’t texted me back in forever.”

Ava’s stomach flipped. That was her fault. Sara was probably just upset, but a part of her worried that something could have happened to her, and an uneasy feeling settled within her.

She wasn’t planning on explaining, but her worry must have shown on her face, because Sin scrunched up hers. “What?”

“Um...that might be my fault? Sort of, I don’t know.” Ava caught herself staring at the off white tiles on the floor. Sin was so much younger than her, but she knew a lot about a lot of different things, and Ava felt sheepish under her searching stare.

“What did you do, drop her phone?”

“I told her sister about her,” Ava admitted, screwing her eyes shut so she didn’t have to watch Sin’s reaction.

“I thought her family didn’t know she was in town?” Sin sat up in bed, fluffing the pillows under her so she had something to lean against.

“They didn’t know that she was alive, or a vigilante. They thought she died five years ago in a yacht accident, and her sister didn’t believe me, so I brought her to Sara. Without telling Sara I was going to do that.

I should have, but I knew Sara would bolt and...she needed this. So I did it anyways.”

Sin’s eyes grew wide. “That’s insane. Did her sister freak out?”

“No,” Ava said. “I mean, she was shocked, obviously, but I think she got over that. They looked happy together when I saw them.”

“So what’s the issue? If she doesn’t have to hide anymore, isn’t that a good thing?”

“Sara asked me not to tell her. I told her I wouldn’t.”

“And then you did it anyways,” Sin said.

Ava nodded. “Yes. I did it anyways.”

“Why?”

“Because she needed it.” Ava had thought a lot about that, and she still believed it. “She wasn’t sleeping and barely eating and it wasn’t healthy. Her being safe is more important than her being fond of me.”

Sin narrowed her eyes. She was looking at Ava with a curious expression. It made her a little bit anxious. “Did you tell her that?”

“I’m on my way to tell her now. Traffic is awful.”

“Traffic’s a bitch,” Sin agreed, smiling at her. Ava felt a little better now that Sin knew what was going on - at least, the gist of it. It was nice to be in the company of someone who didn’t sound uncannily like Olaf from Frozen.

“You are okay, right?” Ava asked. “You look better. The doctors said everything is okay?”

She nodded. “I feel better. They said I can go home in a few days, as long as nothing happens. Thanks for footing the bill, by the way. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. It’s not my money, anyways.”

“Whose money is it?” Sin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Let’s just say my boss is serious about the work I do.”

“Wow,” Sin scoffed. “You must be important to them.

“Yeah. To them.”

An awkward silence settled between them. They both knew who she was thinking of. Ava went to the window, watching as the cars rattled past on the streets below. It was still busy, but most of the congestion had died down by now.

“You should go see her,” Sin said. “God knows Sara can hold a grudge. Tell me how it goes.”

“If she doesn’t forgive me, will you hate me too?” Ava asked.

Sin shook her head. “Nah. That’s too much work.”

Ava smiled at her humor. Feeling a little bit better, and unwilling to wait any longer, she said goodbye and got back on the road, heading towards the Glades.

Verdant was gloomy and grimy. She wasn’t able to find a side entrance to the bunker. The club was ground level, so the basement must be deep underground. Ava passed the bouncer without any issues and waded through the crowd.

The floor was filled with smoke and beams of colored lights. A jockey on a platform along one of the walls played blaring trap music through the giant speakers. People in shiny outfits danced around her, and although it wasn’t that busy, it was busy enough to slip through unnoticed.

There was a door near the back with a keypad next to it. It looked just like a storage room, or an office, if you didn’t know otherside. Her hacking magnet cracked it just fine, and everyone else was too drunk to notice or too high to care.

The stairwell was just as dark as the club, but she could see enough to navigate. Ava caught the door as it closed, turning the handle and shutting it slowly as to not make any noise. Oliver knew what he was doing, but Ava did too.

Her steps down the metal staircase were silent. She took them one by one, laying her foot gently down on the next stair so it made no noise when it touched. She was expecting to find an arrow pointed at her chest, but she didn’t want to startle him sooner than she needed too.

His file was filled with pictures of the bunker, so she already knew what it looked like. Mostly, it was messy. There was scaffolding and wires everywhere, with fluorescent lights attached to exposed pipes and fluffy insulation on the ceiling.

There were shelves full of glassware and combat equipment. Standing in front of a computer rig in the center was a black man with short hair and a gray business shirt. He must be Oliver’s bodyguard and the Arrow’s sidekick, John Diggle.

There was a large light table in front of that. Felicity Smoak, wearing a long blonde ponytail and a floral dress, was standing on the left side of it. Oliver, in his green leather suit, stood on the right. Sara was in the middle.

And she was hurt. She was hurt. Her corset was open, and Oliver was standing over her, sewing up an ugly red gash down the middle of her back. There were others as well, more than one or two, that were healed but still gnarled, still red, a testament to how bad they must have been.

God, she was hurt. Her hunch had been right. Ava thought she was just worrying over nothing, but clearly something had happened. Was it her fault? Had she caused this, somehow? Did she make Sara feel the need to go out and put herself in danger and end up paying the price?

Oliver was almost done. There was only a few seconds before he would finish closing the wound, and then he would look up and see her standing there, but Ava didn’t care. Time seemed to move in slow motion as adrenaline gushed into her veins.

Her gash wasn’t even that bad of an injury, but somehow, it was horrible. Seeing Sara like that, topless and in pain and vulnerable to man who Ava knew did not have her safety in mind, made her feel incredibly ill and violently furious all at once.

It wasn’t rational, but it was undeniable. Ava had feelings for Sara.

People have colors, invisible to the human eye, but plain to the human heart. When someone speaks to your soul, their color bleeds, like still wet watercolor, across your iridescent heart. 

Maybe it was not so easy to forget.

Maybe, when you love someone, you’ll never be the same again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this chapter connects to Arrow 205, The League of Assassins. Sara and Oliver were attacked by Al-Owal while Ava was at the cabin.
> 
> This is the image I based the cabin exterior on, minus the hills and the trees: http://viva-la-swen.tumblr.com/post/182292621248/i-know-that-im-short-i-would-burn-facebook-to
> 
> This is the playlist for this story: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLrYigMiiIExFSWFe6ZzYrRa9xdQUMpDIM
> 
> You can find me on tumblr here: https://www.avalangst.tumblr.com
> 
> I am a busy bee but writing makes me happy and I hope it makes you happy too, so I will try to update as soon as I can! Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!


	17. Say Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ava parked on the street a block away, where she used to play soccer with her sister on the weekends, and they walked. They stopped in the shadow of a public entryway when her father opened his door, headed for his car.
> 
> “I’ll wait here,” Ava said, giving Sara as reassuring smile. Sara nodded. Knowing she was there made this a little bit easier, and if she didn’t do it now, he would drive away. Slowly, one step at a time, she walked out of the shadows and into the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I finished this chapter early and wanted to know your thoughts, so here it is!
> 
> Warnings for references to past violence, torture, and rape. The violence and torture has been shown or implied in the show, and the rape is only mentioned briefly. I did also smush some bunker scenes together for the sake of progress.
> 
> That's all! Enjoy, and let me know what you think in the comments below!

The thread following the needle tugged on her ravaged skin, sending pangs of pain up through her back. It didn’t bother her. Once upon a time, it did, but she learned not to let it hurt. 

It never used to be so hard to experience pain. Sara never thought it would be something that she missed, but she did. The first time she fell and scraped her knee, her sister was there to pick her up, and her mom was there to hug her, and after she cried it didn’t hurt anymore.

But somewhere along the way, things went wrong. Her teenage years were lonely in a way she didn’t expect them to be. Laurel hated her, her dad was disappointed in her, and her mom was too busy with work to notice how fast she was going downhill.

It didn’t matter how many men were in her bed, which was sometimes one and sometimes more, or how many parties she fit into a week. There was still an emptiness that followed her wherever she went.

It drove her to the Queen’s Gambit. The pain that started then never seemed to go away. When it went down, her chest burned like bright blue flames consuming her from the inside out, sending desperate spasms through her as she thrashed in the liquid dark.

When, barely conscious, she broke the surface, it hurt more. Her lungs fought against the air that spilled into them, no longer welcoming, and her ears ached from the pressure. The nausea and dizziness that followed still troubled her today.

There were worse kinds of pains after that. Her skin itched as it burned and split under the beating sun. Along those same lines, nasty men dug their broken nails into her arms when they spit in her face.

The tight pinching that radiated from her core when Ivo forced his way with her was a pain that she would never forget.

And it never really went away. The freighter was dark, damp, and cold. The island was hot, humid, and she never got a chance to catch her breath. At least, not most of the time.

Sometimes she did. One particular night stood out in her mind. In the months she lived with Ollie, Slade, and Shado, they slept in the mostly intact ruins of a fuselage from a plane that must have crashed in the jungle many years before.

It was almost cozy, on nights they knew they were safe. The plane was long, and though narrow, there was enough space to move around without feeling cramped. Vines had grown through the gaps in the siding, keeping it sheltered from the wind.

Shado built a small fire in the center, across from the door. The heat kept the cold night from seeping in and, when it filled the open space, it was relatively warm. Little bits of civilization, whatever they could scavenge, were scattered around her.

Sara laid on a plastic sleeping bag the color of the forest. It protected her from the cold of the earth, but it also reminded her of home. It was smooth under her hands. It felt familiar. In her sleep, she clung to it, never daring to let it go.

The fire was to her right and the door was at her back. She trusted Ollie to say something if he saw anything strange. He was lounging in a chair scrounged from a red hammock tied to the top of a window and then attached to a stool. A second fire burned underneath him.

Slade and Shado were out. It was just the two of them and the moon. It was nice because she and him shared history. A piece of before that she carried with her into this horrible nightmare she thought would never end.

Sara remembered how badly she missed sleeping in a bed, but the next time she was in one, she was with the league. That whole experience was more painful than she knew was possible.

When the freighter blew, she thought that was it. She hoped that was it. Seeing her family again was a dream she let go of a long time ago, and she was ready for it to be over. Desperate for the hurting to stop.

No matter how hard she tried to forget what was done to her in the league - what she was forced to do to others - she never could. They broke her down to her most primal parts and then crushed them into dust until nothing remained. Every living part of her blew away with the wind.

It was the most gruesome thing in the world, until one day, it wasn’t. She didn’t know when that happened. After being starved and beaten and brainwashed so brutally, and so regularly, time cease to matter.

They scooped her soul out like pumpkin seeds and left an empty shell from which Ra’s al Ghul rebuilt her. When pain was that horrible and that constant, your body stops reacting to it. And with help from the demon, there was no living part of her left to feel it.

So when Ollie tugged a thread through the wound in her back, where she was grazed with tip of an assassin’s sword, she didn’t mind at all.

“You’re not even flinching when he…” Felicity trailed off, watching as he worked on her with a squeamish expression.

“Pain and I came to a little understanding a few years back,” Sara explained. Felicity didn’t know everything that had happened to her, but she certainly wasn’t stupid. Sara admired her intelligence and her perseverance.

“Done,” Oliver said. He laid his hand on her shoulder after putting the needle down. Felicity offered her her tank top, and she took it, not paying too much attention to anything else until -

“Ava? What the hell?” Oliver exclaimed.

Sara wheeled around, and there she was. Ava Sharpe, still wearing the same clothes, looking somehow sheepish and confident at the same time. Of course she had the nerve to go poking around in the one thing Sara still had.

“Can I talk to you?” Ava asked. Oliver turned to glare at her with a look of shock on his face.

“I didn’t tell her,” Sara said. Ava must have files on every one of them.

“I’m very important to a lot of people with a lot of information, Mr. Queen.” Ava clasped her hands behind her back as she talked. “I won’t expose you if you don’t expose me.”

She looked like she used to, the first day they met. As strong as steel and completely unwavering. Al-Owal’s attack reminded her of who she really was, and she didn’t know how to reconcile that with the woman standing in front of her.

Sara suddenly had so much to worry about. It was a fifty fifty shot whether the league would come after her sister or her father first, and if she chose wrong, it would cost her everything. She couldn’t afford to focus on anything else.

“I’m busy,” Sara said. “You shouldn’t be here anyways.”

“Come upstairs, then. Just for a minute. I promise.” Ava’s shoulders softened around the edges when she focused on Sara. When she was looking at her, the rest of the world seemed insignificant, and that was dangerous.

Oliver, John, and Felicity were all staring at her with puzzled expressions. Sara pressed her lips together.

“I’ll be right back,” she mumbled. She grabbed Ava’s hand and pulled her up the stairs. The club floor was smokey, shrouding them in a haze that made it easy to sneak off to a dusty corner by the bar without anyone noticing.

Sara’s chest didn’t feel so tight once they were alone, and she was better able to take in Ava. Her hair was loose, falling in shiny waves past her shoulders. It almost blended in to her pale swear, the same one she wore yesterday.

“Are you okay?” Ava asked. Sara was going to comment on her shirt, but the worry in her deep blue eyes caught her off guard.

“What?”

“Your back, are you okay?” She reached out a hand, but stopped before she touched Sara, and seeming to think better of it, let it fall down to her side.

“I’m fine. I thought I told you to leave me alone.”

“My job is to protect you. I’ll do that from a distance if that’s what you want, but please, listen to me. Just for five minutes.”

Sara was hesitant to give in. Already, she was feeling calmer. The panic that seeped out of her when Ava was around was something she needed to protect her family.

“Do I have a choice?” Sara asked, crossing her arms. She wanted a barrier between herself and the concern on Ava’s face.

“Of course you do, Sara. I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t care about your answer.” Ava’s usual cheek tricked back into her voice, and Sara rolled her eyes.

“Five minutes. And then I really have go to.” She pushed herself up onto the bar counter so that she felt a little bit taller.

Ava followed her to the corner, leaning against the wall so she didn’t have to look at Sara. “I told Laurel because you were really not okay, and I knew it would help if she knew. And Laurel was having a hard time too, and I knew she would be safer for her if she knew.

You can hate me forever. I would understand. But my job is to keep you safe and if I have to choose between your ego and your safety, I’m gonna choose the latter.”

“I’m not mad because of my ego, Ava. I’m mad because you broke my trust,” Sara said. The way Ava seemed to care for her was making her feel strange, warm and a little bit woozy, and she didn’t quite know what to do about it.

Ava looked so domestic. She was standing with her arched back against the wall, staring out into the crowd. She looked far away. Sara fought the urge to reach out and bring her back.

“I know I should have talked to you first, but you would have ran, and then nothing that needed to happen could have happened,” Ava explained.

The implication that Sara did nothing but run away from her problems stung a bit. “You’re right. You should have talked to me first.”

“But was I wrong?” Ava looked directly at her now, no longer hiding in the smoke. Sara held her stare. She was right, and they both knew it, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have her reasons.

She wanted to still be angry. Part of her was, but a stronger part of her was acutely aware that her family was in trouble, and she desperately needed any help she could get. 

And isn’t that why Ava did what she did in the first place? If Sara had been in her shoes, she would have done the same, and been there to help Ava pick up the pieces. And here Ava was.

“Your five minutes are up,” Sara said. “Can you help me?”

Ava pushed herself off the wall and offered her hand to Sara. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Sara took it. As she hopped down from the counter, a spark ran up her arm, sending a bloom of butterflies through her. She led Ava back across the floor and down the stairs to the bunker, where everybody else was waiting for them.

“Everyone, this is Ava,” Sara said. “I’ll explain, but not now. How did it go with my father?” Felicity had offered to warn him that the league was back in town as inconspicuously as she could.

“Badly.” Felicity frowned. “He either didn’t believe me or didn’t take me seriously. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have led with league of assassins.”

Shit. That wasn’t surprising, but it was disheartening. Her father had always been down to earth, and that was one of the things Sara loved about him. He was a pillar of reliability. He appreciated the little things in life.

Which was great for family picnics, but not the extent of the danger that he was facing. The best police academy in the world had nothing on the league. Knowing what she knew about him, she didn’t have another option. 

“What do we do now?” Felicity asked. Sara looked at Ava, who nodded sympathetically. She gathered what she had left here earlier, a black leather jacket and her usual weapons, from where they sat on the computer desk.

“What are you doing?” John asked. “I thought you didn’t want your father to know you’re still alive.”

“I don’t, but it’s better than him not being.” Sara was ready to go, but John was standing in front of her, loading his handgun. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“With you. I’m not letting you go out there without any backup,” John said.

Sara sighed. “Dig. You may be a three tour special forces veteran, but I was trained by the people that make the special forces look like a kindergarten class.”

She didn’t want to undermine his experience, but he had no idea what he would be facing, and both he and her father would be much safer if he stayed behind, so she added, “so step aside or get put down.”

John glared at her. “It’s your funeral, Sara.”

“Wouldn’t be my first. Come on, Ava,” she said, heading for the exit before anyone else could get in her way. There wasn’t any way to get around this.

By the time they got outside, it was dark again. Tall buildings and refurbished factories looked ghostly in the low light radiating from streets lights scattered down the street. Most of them were broken or blown out. It was windy, and a little chilly, but not too cold. 

“Can you ping my dad? Right now?” Sara asked. Ava stood behind her, silently waiting for her direction.

“Not exactly,” Ava answered. “We don’t have tracking devices, just newspaper articles. I’m sure I could find him for you, though.”

“I can find him.” It wouldn’t be hard. Her father was predictable. This time of day, he would be getting home from work. All she had to do was go home. As if that was easy. As if her heart wasn’t racing a million miles a second just at the thought of it.

She knew she was supposed to be doing something, going somewhere, but somehow, her feet stayed where they were.

“Sara.” Ava’s voice was gentle, but it scraped against her heart.

“What?” Sara snapped.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Ava said. Her hands came to her shoulders, rubbing light circles into the tension that was building there. “Are you nervous?”

No, she wasn’t nervous. She was petrified, and she didn’t want to admit that, but she knew that it was plain to see. Sara wanted Ava to be honest with her, and that required honestly in return.

Sara nodded. “Yes.” She stared out into the violet night. Music drifted from the club behind her, but other than that, it was quiet. No one was in the streets tonight; not in this part of town.

“Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No,” Sara turned to face her, “come with me. I mean - I know I have to do this on my own, but I don’t want to be alone.” She ran her hands up Ava’s arms, paying close attention to the soft, fluffy fabric under her hands.

“You need new clothes,” she said.

“I’m aware. I forgot about it.”

“You forgot about clothes?”

“No, you idiot, I forgot to change!” Ava pushed her gently, scrunching up her face as Sara laughed.

“Uh huh, sure.”

“I did! I was distracted!”

“By what?” Sara asked.

“By you,” Ava admitted.

Oh. By her. That was...interesting. Unexpected.

Ava caught Sara’s hands in her own. “I didn’t want to ruin your life. I didn’t, did I?”

“No. I’m kind of glad you’re here.” Sara couldn’t put her finger on why, but life got a little bit easier when Ava was around.

Ava smiled down at her, beautiful and serene. “Good. Let’s find your dad first, and then we can get another shirt.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Sara agreed. “Where’d you park?”

Ava’s big black car was tucked neatly into a corner of the club lot. Sara told her what turns to take, but other than that, their drive was silent. A thousand worries flitted unfiltered through her mind.

She looked different now. Less pretty, more angular. Her dad would know that something was off the minute he saw her. Laurel was easy to placate. She took things as they were, for better or for worse. Quentin, on the other hand, could sense trouble from a mile away.

Soon, the streets turned familiar colors. They passed the studio where she danced after school, and after that, she knew every corner by heart. Her dad made sure she knew the way home. Sara never paid attention. As long as he was with her, she was home.

Even after everything she did, all the lying and the scheming and the petty crimes, he still loved her. No matter how upset or angry or disappointed he was, he still loved her. Sara hoped with all she had that somehow, impossibly...that would be enough.

Ava parked on the street a block away, where she used to play soccer with her sister on the weekends, and they walked. They stopped in the shadow of a public entryway when her father opened his door, headed for his car.

“I’ll wait here,” Ava said, giving Sara as reassuring smile. Sara nodded. Knowing she was there made this a little bit easier, and if she didn’t do it now, he would drive away. Slowly, one step at a time, she walked out of the shadows and into the light.

Quentin whirled around with a gun in his hands. Felicity warned him that he was in danger, and he was probably more than a little paranoid.

When he saw her, he shook his head, staring with narrowed eyes into the darkness. “No, it can’t be. It can’t be Sara.”

Though his hands were steady, his voice shook. He sounded desperate, like he was barely holding together what little he had left, and it broke Sara’s heart.

“It’s me. It’s Sara,” she assured him. She lowered the gun in his hands, wanting to show him that it really was her. “Daddy, it’s okay.”

Without thinking much about it, she fell into his arms. His grip was familiar, the tight pressure and the smell of leather, and along with tears, dozens of memories came rushing back. She spent the last five years dreaming of this moment.

Part of her wanted to tell him what had happened to her, what they had done to her. How strange men with heavy weapons kidnapped and tortured her. Another part was overcome by guilt, because it was her fault that he was in trouble, and it was her fault that he was hurting.

But she couldn’t do either, so she just cried. She could hear her father crying, too. The more she leaned into him, the closer her hugged her, saying her name again and again as if that alone somehow made her real.

“Daddy, it’s okay,” Sara said. “It’s okay. You’re okay now.”

“Sara,” he repeated.

“I know. I know.”

Quentin pulled away from Sara so he could see her, taking her face between his hands. His fingers were rough, covered in calluses from his job, but she didn’t mind. Hers were too, now.

“I thought you were dead,” he confessed.

Sara looked up into his watery brown eyes. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

Quentin nodded. His eyes roamed over her face, searching for answers to the dozens of questions he suddenly had.

“Everything okay?” Ava asked. Sara turned around, linking her hand with her father’s so she knew he was still there. Ava stood halfway in the shadows, wanting to support her, but not trying to intrude.

“Another one?” Quentin asked.

Sara smiled. “Daddy, this is Ava. She helped me find you.”

He hesitated, searching for words, until he settled on, “Thank you. I guess I’m the last to know. Does Laurel?”

“Yeah, she does. We can all be together again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have anything else to add. I appreciate all of you very much!


	18. Take Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She steps out into the crisp morning air, looks out across the yard, and sees a girl. She is facing away from the house. The day breaks, and the soft beams of light that spill out across the meadow paint her blonde hair pink.
> 
> “Sara?” Ava asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know it has been quite a while since my last update. My life has been very busy, but now that summer is here, I have a bit more time to hopefully work on this story.
> 
> This chapter is shorter than most. It was not my original intention, but I reached a stopping point that I liked, so I decided to end it there. I have updated my writing style, so I apologize if that throws anyone off.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments below.

Sara invites her father to dinner. She invites Ava, too, but Ava declines. She wants to give Sara the space she needs to heal.

Instead, she returns to her cabin. The amber lamps along the roadside begin to thin the closer she gets, until her car is the only source of light. Gary texted her earlier to let her know construction is finished, and when she pulls through the iron gates, she’s the only one there.

The fence is of alabaster cobblestone. The driveway takes her over a bridge between two small ponds and through a roundabout that leads to the garage. On one side, a path leads to the front door, and on the other, through an empty garden bed that surrounds the cabin.

The house seems far too big to belong only to her. She wanders slowly into the living room, not having anything else to do. She should find something else to do. Gary would be happy for her help on any one of his projects, but every time she checks her phone, it's not for him.

It’s for her. The lights are still off in the house. Ava can see silver beams shining through the windows, and she follows them out to the front balcony. The garden is barely illuminated by the lunar glow, but high above her, another world awaits.

The milky way floats weightlessly in the night sky. This far from the city, there is no light pollution. She never had the time to notice it before. The cotton candy clouds of blues and purples shine bright against the navy sky like nothing else she has ever seen.

She had seen pictures before, but to be standing beneath it, one tiny person in this vast and immeasurable galaxy, is something else entirely. She feels light and grounded at the same time. No longer missing home in any way. No longer needing it.

Her phone lights up, and in the dark of the early night, it’s blinding. Ava turns down the brightness before she can read the notification. It’s just a weather update - fifty degrees outside, no clouds - and she’s disappointed. She was hoping for a message from someone else.

My cabin is finished, if you ever need somewhere to go. 

Ava types and sends the message before she can overthink it. She stays outside for a few more minutes, searching for constellations, but it gets colder as the moon rises. She goes to the bunker until she is tired enough to sleep.

When she wakes, it is dark. Her fingertips slide across the comforter until they find smooth wood, and she fumbles for the light switch. Faint white light radiates from the bedside lamp, casting shallow shadows on the furniture in the room.

It is simple, undecorated, as she had asked. She fell asleep in the bedroom furthest from the stairs, on the eastern side of the house. The bed sheets are plain and the dressers are unpainted. Tall curtains cover the wall to her right.

Ava parts them slowly, letting in one sunbeam at a time. A glass wall hides behind, and behind that, a balcony. She hadn’t checked the time, but it is early - the sky is still dark, with rich streaks of pink and orange painted across the horizon.

She steps out into the crisp morning air, looks out across the yard, and sees a girl. She is facing away from the house. The day breaks, and the soft beams of light that spill out across the meadow paint her blonde hair pink.

“Sara?” Ava asks. Her voice sounds like gravel kicked along a rugged path.

Sara turns when she hears it. She’s still wearing last night’s outfit, and as the shadows cross her face, Ava sees deep circles under her eyes.

“Have you been up all night?” Instantly, Ava is worried, and it pulls her to the railing. “How did it go with your father?”

It occurs to her that she might be prying, but she doesn’t really care. Protecting Sara is the reason she’s here...maybe, in more ways than one.

Sara frowns up at her. “Can I come in?”

When Ava opens the front door, Sara is waiting.

“You could have knocked. Or, called me. You didn’t have to loiter outside,” Ava said.

“I was not loitering! I just got here,” Sara explained.

“I can see that.” Ava reaches out her hand, slowly, not wanting to startle her, and Sara does not pull away. Her fingers trace the purple welts beneath her eyes, and then follow the line of her jaw. A thin red line is drawn across Sara’s throat. Ava does not touch it.

“What happened last night?” She looks to Sara’s eyes for clues. They are tired, yes, but still warm. The gentleness that she has come to know is still there.

Sara smiles, a soft, lopsided sort of smile, and takes Ava’s hand in her own. “The league showed up, but I’m okay. Dinner went...pretty well, actually.”

“They did that to you?” Ava asks, points to the wound on her neck.

Sara nods. “Yeah. Don’t worry, I gave way worse than I got.”

Ava lets out a breath. Sara is okay. Sylas is nowhere to be found and the league is at bay. It may not last forever, but for now, they have time. Time enough to rest, at least, and figure out their next move.

“You should sleep,” Ava suggests, letting Sara in. “The bedrooms are upstairs.” She realizes as soon as she says it that Sara doesn’t know where the stairs are, so she shows her the way.

“It’s so empty in here,” Sara says. Ava climbs slowly, letting Sara take in everything around her. 

Ava smiles sheepishly. “I need to decorate, but I don’t really know where to start. Do you?”

“No. That was always Laurel’s thing. Getting in between her and her projects was never a good idea.” She pauses, considers something, before adding “is never a good idea.”

Ava reaches the top of the staircase. The hall in front of her leads to the master bedroom and the hall to the right leads to two others.

“You should invite her over, maybe she can help. If you want.” She doesn’t want to press that matter any more than she already has, but Lauren is a good influence on Sara, and they could use her help.

“I’ll ask. Sin, too,” Sara agrees. She looks around for a moment. “Which one is yours?”

Ava points ahead. “I slept there last night, but you can sleep anywhere.”

Sara heads to the master bedroom, and Ava follows. She looks out of the curtains to the slowly rising sun, then closes them, sitting down on the bed. Her shoulders slump with tiredness.

Ava stands at the door. It seems intrusive, somehow, to be there. She waits for Sara to say something, but she doesn’t. When she sees her eyes gloss over, as if staring at something unseen, Ava speaks up instead.

“Do you need anything?”

“I think, maybe...I’d rather not be alone right now.” Sara doesn’t look up when she says it.

She looks so vulnerable, sitting on crumpled sheets, staring at the ground. The sight tugs on Ava’s heartstrings. 

“I can stay, if you like. I don’t mind.” She isn’t sure exactly what Sara wants, but Sara pats the spot next to her, finally looking up. Her eyes are mesmerizing. Ava follows them to the bed.

“There are pajamas in the dresser,” she says.

“I’m too tired for pajamas,” Sara mumbles. “Pajamas suck.” She stands up to take her jeans off, and Ava turns around, staring at the empty wall.

“Pajamas do not suck. They’re very comfortable, that’s the point.” She feels the dip in the bed as Sara sits back down, and then the rustle of the covers being pulled up.

Sara is lying with her head on the pillow, looking up at Ava with sleep eyes. “Are those comfortable?”

Ava takes a moment to consider this. They are plain, but good quality. She lies down next to Sara and feels content, surrounded by cool softness and the muffled sounds of early dawn.

“Yes,” she decides. “They are.”

Sara, seeking confirmation, reaches out her hand. She takes the fabric at the bottom of Ava’s shirt between her fingers, rubbing smooth circles, before trailing up her side.

Ava lets her eyes close. It feels like fire, but a soft, gentle fire, like coals smoldering at the end of a long day. She had only slept for a few hours, and now it was catching up to her.

“Ava?” Sara whispers.

“Hmm?”

“Goodnight.”

Ava smiles in the darkness. “Goodnight, Sara.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little chapter. Please feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts and be kind to yourselves.


	19. Some People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a plain sweater and a pair of gray jeans near the bottom of the drawer. Sara pulls them out, gently shaking the edges so they unfold, while Ava goes to the bathroom.
> 
> She pauses in the doorway. “And Sara?”
> 
> “Yeah?”
> 
> “Don’t forget to breathe. It’ll be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! I apologize for skipping last week. I'm still getting back into the swing of things, but I think two weeks is better than two months, so that's something. This chapter is of normal length.
> 
> I'll admit that this chapter is a bit weird. It's much more character focused than plot focused, but I hope you don't mind too much. There's a bit of a time jump in the show that I need to close, but I promise we will get there soon. Nyssa is coming!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts. Would you guys want to see their cabin built in Sims 4?

Sara wakes to light. It fills the white room with a vanilla glow, a little bit paler than the sunrise, and a little bit brighter, too. She is still for a moment, letting the smoky haze of sleep lift like rising steam, before she opens her eyes.

Ava is lying across from her. She holds the crumpled comforter close to her chest, like a child cuddling a teddy bear. Her side rises and falls steadily. The expression on her face is thoughtless, with no worries to trouble her. The sight brings a smile to her face.

Sara finds the bathroom through the door to the right of the nightstand. The cabinets and counters to her left are constructed from caramel wood. There is a bathtub set in stone to her right, and in the corner, a glass shower.

The warm water falls steadily on her back. Soreness lingers there, but it is not uncomfortable. She gently kneads the places where bruises are beginning the bloom. In this place, so far away from the wretched world, the memory is already beginning to fade.

Sara lets it, just for now. When she opens the bathroom door again, Ava is awake, sitting with her long legs dangling off the side of the bed. Her hair is tangled in knots on top of her head, and sleepiness still lingers in her eyes.

“The lack of clothing between us is becoming an issue,” she says. 

"Only a little one," Sara answers. "I wasn't prepared to move around so much. My stuff is still at my apartment."

"Yeah, well, mine too. I still need to go back there."

"No, it's fine." She pulls her towel tighter around her and starts opening dresser drawers, looking for something to wear. “Sylas could still be snooping around the place. You should just get new ones. You need decor, anyways. Those curtains are awful."

"What?" Ava turns around to look at them. "They are not awful. They're bland, but they're not awful."

"They're awful. They look like hotel curtains."

"Well, fine, come with me, then, and you can pick new ones," Ava huffs. "Have you asked Laurel yet? Does she want to help?"

“I haven’t asked yet. I only just woke up,” Sara said. That was a good enough excuse. It was the truth, technically.

“Why don’t you call her now?” Ava suggests. “I need to shower, and then we can head out.” 

There’s a plain sweater and a pair of gray jeans near the bottom of the drawer. Sara pulls them out, gently shaking the edges so they unfold, while Ava goes to the bathroom.

She pauses in the doorway. “And Sara?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget to breathe. It’ll be okay.”

After getting dressed, and brushing the tangles out of her hair, Sara steps out onto the balcony. Under the afternoon sun, it's unseasonably warm. She takes the time to roll up her sleeves while her phone rings.

“Hello?” 

“Hi, Laurel.” She sounds like a stranger. She is a stranger. They had both changed in unpredictable ways over the last many years, and though they reunited, that was as far as they got. It was difficult, between their schedules or lack of, to find the time.

“Are you busy?” Sara asks.

“No, not right now. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. I have a question for you, actually. My friend needs help decorating her new house, and I thought we could do it together. If you want to, you don’t have to.” Butterflies float around her stomach the longer she talks. Laurel had plenty of time to change her mind about not hating her. She had every right to.

But when Laurel answers, she sounds happy. “Sure! I get off at five, do you want to have dinner before we start? You can invite your friend. What’s their name?”

“Ava,” Sara says. Laurel used to know all of her friends. She used to know all of hers.

“Ava. The girl who showed up at my door?”

Sara forgot about that. It probably wasn’t a good first impression. “Yeah, that one. Do you mind if I bring along one more? She’s nice, I promise.”

“Table for four, then? Where do you want to eat?”

Just then, Sara hears the balcony door open behind her. A burst of cold air spills out from the house. It feels nice against her pale skin, which smolders under an unhindered sun.

Ava comes to stand at the rail beside her, looking out onto the empty garden plot.

“You pick. When do you wanna meet? Five thirty? Six?”

“Six sounds good,” Laurel agrees. “I need to change.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” Sara contemplates the words I love you, but it seems to soon to admit to this new person, so she just says, “Bye, Laurel.”

“What did she say?”

She looks up at Ava, squinting in the light. Her wet hair is pulled tightly back into a low bun, and she wears another standard suit. Based on what Sara had seen, that is nearly all there is in the drawers.

“Dinner for the four of us tonight at six. I think we should go clothes shopping first, and then we can hit the home goods stores after.”

“The four of us?”

Sara nods. “Sin gets out today.”

“Things are finally starting to get back to normal,” Ava says. 

Was it? Was this their normal? Did they even have a normal? Sara rolls the concept around her head. Here, it smells pleasantly of pine trees, freshly cut grass, and the mulch in the garden bed. 

“Yeah,” Sara agrees. “I guess, maybe, it is.” This could be their normal. It would be a pretty nice normal.

“You don’t happen to know where the nearest shopping center is, do you?”

“No, but I know the best one. It has everything,” Sara adds. It’s just down the road from her childhood home.

“That’s good enough for me.”

Ava pulls into the parking lot in her big black car, and a dozen memories suddenly flood Sara’s mind. This was the center her parents always took her to. It was more or less square, with several large parking lots surrounded by brick buildings on all sides.

It happened to be the most inclusive she knew of, which is why they were here, but it was still a lot to deal with. She hadn’t been here since she was in college.

“Sara?”

Ava had been talking. “What?”

“Where are we going?”

“Oh, sorry.” She looks for her bearings. “There’s thrift stores on the right.” Sara points to the little buildings side by side, with crumbling paint and quaint homemade signs. “We should start there.”

Ava frowns at her as she turns the wheel. “Are you okay? You left the building for a minute there.”

“I’m fine.” The words leave her mouth before she could decide whether she really wanted to say them or not. Normally she would just let them, and give in to the automatic, but they clashed with the person sitting next to her.

“It’s just...memories. You know.” Ava didn’t know, but Sara hoped she would understand, somehow.

“Do you come here a lot? Or, did you?”

Sara nods. “It’s close to my parent’s house. My dad used to take us shopping here after school, every once in a while. It was him and my sister and me, and then our mom would be waiting at home for us to show her our new clothes. It was nice, when we were little.”

“Good memories, then,” Ava says, pulling into a spot outside the store.

She considers that. “Yeah. Good ones.” Good memories were few and far between these days, and always marred by the scars of time, and yet, here she is, right in the middle of one. Making new ones with new friends.

Inside the store, the rows and rows of donated clothes stretch on, organized by color and style and type. It’s as neat as a thrift store can be, although the very nature lends itself to a bit of chaos. The old, mottled carpet conflicts with the walls.

She takes Ava up and down the isles, showing her the best spots on the racks; where things were and where people didn’t often look. She doesn’t remember everything, but she remembers more than she expected to.

They pull clothes that catch their eye. Sometimes, Sara will ask for a second opinion - Ava usually didn’t, she knows what she likes - but most of the time they shop in comfortable silence. Eventually, they are satisfied with their piles. 

Sara stands with her back against the side of the dressing room. People pass by with their friends, their kids, their spouses, pulling items off the racks to hang over their arms. A young girl in a colorful dress shows her mom a sparkly top with a big smile on her face.

“Sara? Can you come in here?” Ava asks through the door. Her voice is muffled.

She opens to door. Ava is hidden beneath a shirt pulled halfway over her head, revealing the underside of the zipper tape.

“The zipper is stuck,” she mumbles. 

“Oh my god.”

“It is! It’s not my fault!”

“You look ridiculous,” Sara says. She covers her mouth to keep from bursting into giggles in the middle of the store. The inside out shirt that is Ava turns towards the source of her voice.

“Sara! Come help me, my arms hurt.”

“Okay, okay, just give me one second.” Sara takes a picture - no way is she ever letting her live this down - before she puts her phone in her pocket and grabs the bottom of the shirt. She tugs on it, testing the give, and pulls upwards.

Underneath, messy wisps of hair hang down the sides of Ava's face. Her warm skin is shown off by the bright red bra she wears.

Sara raises an eyebrow. "Is that from the bureau?"

"No," Ava rolls her eyes, "I thought it was cute." She pauses for a moment, and a crease forms between her eyebrows. "Why, is it not? Does it look bad?"

It certainly does not look bad. The band is made of thin lace that matches the bow in the center and the designs across the padding, which show of her assets. Sara knows she stares longer than she needs to, but suddenly she's hot, her heart beating a little bit faster in her chest, and she can't help it.

Ava must notice, too, because when Sara looks up at her face, her cheeks are smothered in sunset pink rouge.

Only now does Sara remember what she is supposed to be doing. "I think you look - I mean, I think the bra looks - it looks great, you know, it's...well made."

Ava looks down at herself. Her hands come to her chest, slowly tracing the embroidery with her fingertips. She starts at the band and makes her way to the top, where her soft, smooth skin fills the fabric. "Well made?" She echoes.

"Uh...yeah," Sara stutters, "for sure." She doesn't know what to say - she's usually so good about these things - until she thinks about Ava wearing that around the house an adds, "You should definitely buy it."

"You think?" Ava asks. She turns back to the mirror. "You're not just saying that because you like my boobs?"

“I never said that,” Sara says, frowning at her.

“You have a habit of staring."

"Uh…” Sara hesitates. “I'm gonna wait outside." She's embarrassed because Ava is right, and she doesn't quite know what to do about it. She doesn't know what to do about herself these days.

Survival is easy. Not the act itself, maybe, not by any means, but the state. Survival. Nothing else matters except whatever is between yourself and your needs.

But now, navigating the mundane everyday seemed so difficult. Because it isn't mundane at all. Ava had become such a constant in her life, it was easy to forget the way that she made her feel. And the fleeting nature of it.

What now? Between her enemies and Ava's, what did they do? Go shopping? Is that all life is? 

Somehow, it didn't seem enough. Or, too much, all at once. The point at which two parallel lines collide.

The reality is that the league stole everything from her. Every little tiny thing - her identity, her joy, her will, her reason. And now, after her great escape, she has to rebuild, and the very thought is so incredibly overwhelming that maybe shopping is about all that she can manage.

"I'll get these." Ava's voice floats around the corner, followed closely by her. She has a pile of clothes over each arm. "Are you ready to try on yours?"

She's wearing her suit again. It's not unflattering by any means, but thank god.

"I'm good, we can just check out."

Ava looks at her with a puzzled expression. "You're not going to try them on? How do you know if they fit?"

"I held them up," Sara says. She takes the shirt from the top of her pile - a black tee with cross stitching that reminds her of nothing in particular - and pins the shoulders to her own. "See?"

"What? That doesn't count."

Sara hesitates. "Yes it does."

"No, it doesn't," Ava insists, "but it's okay. Just...keep your receipt. This is cute, for you." She runs her hand over the shirt Sara holds.

"Cute? Or cute for me? Because those are different things."

"I just mean it's nice, but I wouldn't wear it. Doom and gloom isn't really my style," Ava explains.

Sara rolls her eyes. They make their way to the front of the store, where a line of customers waiting to check out trickles into the racks.

"Doom and gloom looks good on me. Can you blame me?"

"No. I can't." Ava says it a bit more seriously than she needs to.

Sara doesn't know how to respond. She stares at the head in front of her. Their hair is a very dark brown, styled in tight curls. It looks nice.

"Are you nervous? About dinner?"

"I don't know," Sara admits. "I don't know what I'm supposed to feel."

"There's no wrong answer, Sara."

"I genuinely don't.” She takes time to mull this over, and search for any strands of definite emotion, but she comes up empty. She’s not hiding anything. It’s hiding from her. “That's the issue. Whatever emotion I don't know is - that's what I feel."

"Confused? Lost?" Ava suggests.

"Maybe. Something like that." She thinks of the cabin, out far away from the world, and misses it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for reading, and please leave a comment if you like! I really appreciate you taking time out of your day to spend a few minutes in this world.
> 
> Originally, I planned for shopping, dinner, and decorating the house to all be one chapter, but it looks like it might stretch out to one or two more. I hope it's not too boring for you. Once that is done we will get back into the action.
> 
> Be kind to yourselves and I will (hopefully) see you next week!


	20. Seven Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re outside, and the sun, which is just beginning to set, is glaring down on them, but right now it doesn’t seem to matter. The people passing to and fro fade into the background the longer Ava stays there.
> 
> Ava lets her hands run up Sara’s arms and around her back, drawing her closer. It feels so different to be with her than it did before - natural, easy, effortless. She feels warmer, safer, happier, the closer she is to her. Ava lets her head drop lower…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm on time today!
> 
> I don't think I've ever written a least plot centered chapter. Ava and Sara go home to change and then drive to dinner. I have no idea how that managed to fill an entire chapter, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your comments! I read and treasure every one. I hope you all are doing well and I will see you (hopefully) next week!

This place is so different than what Ava is used to. The walls of the thrift store are an old, faded cranberry color, which clashes with everything. The stains near the bottom match the splashes of color on the clothes racks.

She never shops in places like this. The center near her apartment in Washington D.C. is a seemingly never ending scape of linoleum and fluorescence. None of the clothes sold there have ever been worn before.

When Ava first thought of Starling City, she thought of the metropolis’ bleeding heart, stacks upon stacks of old modern apartments crammed into concrete blocks, but the more she stays here, the more she finds herself moving further and further away from that.

Its homey. She can imagine this very store in any corner of any suburb. And in all of her imaginings, Sara is always by her side. This daydream would be empty without her.

The person at the front of the line puts their receipt in their bag and leaves. The lines moves up, and Ava steps forward first, leaving a space for Sara to fill. 

Sara’s struggling. She’s swimming, her head still above water, but Ava can still see it. She always gets quiet, less sassy, more serious, when she is. Lost in her own world.

Another customer checks out. 

The worst part is that Ava isn’t sure how to help. It’s a delicate line to navigate - the one between pushing her too hard and not hard enough - that she’s trying to learn how to walk.

As the queue moves forward, Sara says nothing more. Ava watches, as discreetly as she can, the worries pass behind her eyes. She doesn’t know much about Laurel. Sara doesn’t know much about who she has become. They are both in the same boat, but it’s tilting, getting closer to the tipping point. It must be hard for her.

After a few minutes, it’s their turn. Sara puts her clothes on the counter. They’re mostly dark colors, with few patterns or designs. No expression of any passions. Ava’s are similarly styled, professional and adult, but less strict, more personal.

Her favorite is a light gray shirt with a white feather on it. Where the wind blows, the feather disintegrates into tiny, thin winged birds that fly towards the horizon. Ava always liked birds. They travel the world, but somehow, always find their way home.

“Is that everything for you today?” The cashier asks. He has an angular face and shiny red hair that is tied up in a neat ponytail. 

“Yes, that’s all, thank you,” Ava says. She puts the bureau card in the chip reader and watches it process.

Sara steps up beside her. “How much money do you have?”

Ava shrugs. The bureau is a vast and powerful government agency. She doesn’t spend more than she needs to, but this operation is not inexpensive, which was planned for. She has as much as she needs for as long as she’s here.

“I have enough,” Ava answers. “There’s not really a limit.”

Sara raises her brow. “Unlimited money? That’s rather extravagant.”

“Well, it’s not unlimited as in infinite. I just meant I can use what I need to.” The cashier hands her a couple of big bags. She gives one to Sara, says thank you, and they head to the door together.

“I’ll bet that house wasn’t cheap.”

“No,” Ava agrees, “probably not. It does have a purpose, you know. It’s necessary. For security measures.”

“Right. Security measures.”

“It is. You’re the one who won’t let me get my stuff because of big bad Sylas.” Ava opens the door with her back, leaning on the horizontal bar until it unlocks and swings slowly open.

“What else do you have? How much can you bring with you when you’re time traveling?”

“Not much. Well, I guess you could, but it would be dangerous. Usually you’re not supposed to bring anything because it increases the chance of disrupting the timeline. Theoretically you could move boxes through the portal, but we try to close them as quickly as possible.”

“But you broke the rules,” Sara says.

“No. I mean, not really. I just brought one little thing.”

“Ava Sharpe.” Sara sounds like a parent scolding their child, but there’s a gleefulness to it that she doesn’t try to hide. “Who knew you were such a rebel.” They put their clothes in the backseat to Ava’s car.

Ava rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“What did you bring?”

“A shoebox.”

Sara frowns. “Why? Couldn’t leave your business heels behind?”

“It didn’t have shoes in it,” Ava explains. She takes longer than she needs to putting the bags down, fitting them neatly on the floor between seats, smoothing the edges and fixing the clothes inside, to avoid thinking about it too much.

“It had souvenirs from all the places I’ve traveled to. All the people I’ve helped. But they’re ruined now. Sylas found it and destroyed everything inside.”

“Oh, Ava. I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Ava shuts the door, forcefully enough for it to close, but not hard enough to damage it. “It’s not your fault.”

“Because I care about you,” Sara says. Panic fills her features as soon as she realizes what she said. “I mean - well, I just meant…”

Ava watches as she struggles to find her words. Sara stares at the ground, and she suddenly she seems very worried, before looking up to meet Ava’s gaze. “Yeah. I mean that.”

She doesn’t know what to say, but it’s not uncomfortable, exactly. Sara is staring at her with deep blue eyes that have somehow become her world.

She wants to say so, but it's too much, too serious, to echo her words. Sara must know how she feels for her. Why else would she be here, across time and space, to care for her?

Sara’s hands rest at her sides. Ava reaches out to take them, running her thumb over soft skin. She lets herself be close to Sara, and hopes she understands.

They’re outside, and the sun, which is just beginning to set, is glaring down on them, but right now it doesn’t seem to matter. The people passing to and fro fade into the background the longer Ava stays there.

Ava lets her hands run up Sara’s arms and around her back, drawing her closer. It feels so different to be with her than it did before - natural, easy, effortless. She feels warmer, safer, happier, the closer she is to her. Ava lets her head drop lower…

And from the back of Sara’s pocket, her phone goes off. The alarm blares loudly, it’s shrill repetitive ring startling the both of them. Sara scrambles to shut it off, stepping back out of Ava’s space to find it.

“We only have an hour until dinner,” she says, holding her phone up to hide her flushed cheeks. “We should head back to the house - your house.”

“Yeah, we should,” Ava agrees. She’s a bit embarrassed by the interruption, and suddenly aware of how public this parking lot is. “Wouldn’t want to be late.”

“No, we wouldn’t. Laurel hates it when I’m late.” Sara walks around the other side to get in the passenger seat. Ava takes a minute to breathe, take in the fresh air and find her head again.

The drive back is getting more and more familiar. Ava worries less about if she’s taking the right turns, and commits a few landmarks to memory, although they aren’t very helpful. Mostly, they’re just trees.

“Where are we going for dinner?” Ava asks.

“Um…” Sara scrolls through her phone. “The Gentlemen’s Tavern? I’ve never been there. Or heard of it, actually. Laurel says it’s good.”

“Laurel seems like a reliable source. I trust her,” Ava says. “What kind of food do you like?”

“I don’t know. I’ve tried everything, I think. Honestly, the idea of a plain grilled cheese sounds really nice. I haven’t had one in...years, I guess.”

Ava thinks on it. She can’t remember the last time she had one either. Her life was so busy, she didn’t really have time to cook, and on the occasions she did, grilled cheese was never fitting.

“Huh. Me too. We’ll have to make some, then.”

The setting sun brings out the auburn tones in the cabin’s wood paneling. Ava parks in the drive to save time, and they bring their bags into the house, climbing the long, winding staircases up to the second and third floor.

The dresser is still full of clothes, so Ava starts to lay out her new ones on the bed. She takes each piece and smooths it out, folding them carefully and then organizing them into stacks. Sara balls hers up and leaves them in a pile.

“Don’t do that, they’ll wrinkle,” Ava says. She picks up a tower of shirts and puts it on a pillow. “Here, you can put them there.”

“No they won’t, it’s fine.” Sara riffles through her mountain and pulls out the dress she picked out for dinner. It’s short and sleeveless, with a lace overlay over the sweetheart neckline. Matt sequins in lighter and darker shades are scattered across the bottom of the skirt.

She holds it up. “Do you think this will be okay?”

“It looks lovely.” It does. She looks lovely, even with the traces of worry that are starting to creep onto her face. Again. She’s worried a lot these days. “I’m sure Laurel with think so too.”

“I hope so,” Sara says. She folds it over a few times on her arm and goes into the bathroom to change. Ava picks up her own outfit - a pink, orange, and gray ombre romper with a train - and puts it on.

Sara finds a makeup set inside one of the bathroom cabinets. They get ready quietly, blending their colors and curling their hair. She puts on a dark red lipstick that matches her smokey eye, and Ava finds a peach toned pink.

They picked out an outfit for Sin, too, by sending her pictures of things she might like. She chose a black suit with high waisted pants and a matching undershirt. The drive to the hospital passes quickly.

Ava brought long coats to put on over their dresses, but a few passersby still stare as they weave through the long, white hallways to get to Sin. People usually had worse things to worry about than fancy dress in a place like this.

But right now, they didn’t. Sin smiles when they knocked on her door - a big, beaming grin that fills her small face. She’s healthy now, no longer sallow and bruised.

“You ready to get out of here, kiddo?” Sara asks. 

"So ready. I feel like I've been here for a million years."

"Me too. Here, do you like it?" Sara pulls the suit out to show her.

It's badass,” Sin says, taking it from her. She folds the shirt and pants into something that vaguely resembles a square and holds it to her chest. "Are you ready for dinner? With your sister?"

Ava isn't sure how much Sin knows about Sara's past, but it's clear that there is something shared between them that she isn't really a part of.

Sara nods. It's hesitant, but it's there. "Yeah. I think I am."

The Tavern isn’t far. It’s just five minutes or so through the city streets that always seem to block out the sunlight, despite its setting rays shining down on them, bouncing orange light off skyscraper windows.

Ava, with Sara in the passenger seat and Sin in the back, turns down an alley. It’s evidently old - falling apart in more places than not - but it’s clear that someone is doing their best to look after it.

Cars are parked here and there on the sides of the street. As they approach the big, wooden sign hanging from a bar door, Sara spots Laurel’s little silver honda.

“There’s her car,” she says, pointing it out. “She’s probably inside already.”

“Do you wanna text her and ask?” Ava suggests. She pulls into the spot behind her, parking carefully against the curb with her big black monster of a car. It looks out of place in this quaint little alleyway. She makes a mental note to double check the locks.

Sara’s phone goes off. “Yeah, she is. She says she has a table towards the back of the platform.”

“Okay,” Ava says. “Well. You look lovely,” Ava says to Sara, and then turns around to Sin, “and you look handsome. Let’s go eat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I really appreciate it. Leave a comment with your thoughts if you'd like to, I love to read them. 
> 
> It looks like this plotless section might last a little bit longer purely because I'm physically incapable of doing things in a timely manner. Oopsie. I hope you enjoy it anyways and I look forward to reading your responses! Be kind to yourselves.


	21. More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi, Laurel.” Her voice sounds quiet, but stable. That’s good. She hasn’t embarrassed herself yet.
> 
> She’s planning on taking things slowly - an unusual strategy for her, but she’s so worried about messing things up that she decides it’s best - but then Laurel pulls her into a hug, and her head fits above Laurel’s shoulder like it always has, and she might, for just a second, have to try really hard not to cry.
> 
> All these years of waiting, desperately holding on to even the tiniest little thread of hope, and at very very long last, it is here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! The new chapter is finally here! I'm sorry I'm a day late; yesterday I had to get ready for work at five am so I didn't have time to finish this.
> 
> It's kind of a mess, but I think it's one of my better chapters. This marks the end of our little rendezvous from the plot and this chapter of these character's lives. Things are about to get shaken up!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! Please leave a comment with your thoughts if you would like, I love to read them.

Sara follows Ava out of the alley and into the restaurant. Inside, candles and low hanging lamps with stained glass decorations light the dark wooden tables. It’s relatively busy, but it isn’t crowded, with people who seem to know where they’re going passing by every once and a while.

A hostess with dark skin and long braided hair approaches them. “Table for three?”

“We already have a table,” Ava says. “Thank you, though.”

“Sure thing.” She smiles and steps aside, letting their little crew through the narrow aisle that leads to the seating area. It’s mostly benches here, on the ground floor, but as they walk through, Sara spots a platform to the left.

At the top of the stairs, long picnic tables fill the floor. There’s a few groups of people eating here - a gaggle of older men, a trio of teenagers, a couple and their two children - and Laurel, sitting in a circular booth in a corner against the wall.

Her auburn hair is wavy, with two curls pinned up in the front. She’s wearing a tight teal dress that matches one of the colors on the glass.

She looks so grown up. Sara supposes she does, as well, and maybe that’s the weirder part. Laurel was always the mature one, and Sara, the child. Now she had seen so much that she could never share.

Laurel looks up from her menu and sees them, waving them over.

“Hey, glad you could make it.” She smiles at Sara when they approach - a real, genuine smile - and Sara feels a little bit better.

“Hi, Laurel.” Her voice sounds quiet, but stable. That’s good. She hasn’t embarrassed herself yet.

She’s planning on taking things slowly - an unusual strategy for her, but she’s so worried about messing things up that she decides it’s best - but then Laurel pulls her into a hug, and her head fits above Laurel’s shoulder like it always has, and she might, for just a second, have to try really hard not to cry.

All these years of waiting, desperately holding on to even the tiniest little thread of hope, and at very very long last, it is here.

“Hi,” Laurel says. “Hello Ava -” she offers her hand, and Ava shakes it - “and you must be Sin. I like your suit.”

Their circles don’t usually cross, but Laurel is an attorney who often helped the misfortunate, and Sin is in with the misfortunate, so each knows who the other is.

“That’s me,” Sin replies. “Thanks. I like your dress.”

“Thank you.” Laurel gestures to the booth, and Sin gets in first, scooting around to the other side. Ava, Sara, and Laurel follow in order.

The laminated menu feels heavy in Sara’s hands. She looks through the different headings - there’s only lunch and dinner here - at all the choices. It’s mostly hearty food, sandwich melts, nicer meats, traditional dishes, but there’s more modern options as well.

“What do you usually get?” Sara asks Laurel. She looks to her left, up at Ava, and Ava shrugs. She’s out of her element too. Sara scoots a little bit closer.

“I tried a sandwich last time,” Laurel says. Sara looks through all of the toppings; a variety of meats, cheeses, veggies, and sauces. “Mom recommended it to me.”

They look over the menu in silence, each woman trying to find something they like, before Laurel says quietly, “Have you talked to her?”

Sara’s invested in the section she’s reading. “What?”

“Have you talked to mom yet?”

“No, I haven’t.” Sara’s not so interested in food anymore, but she doesn’t look up, using the menu to hide her face.

Her relationship with their mom was complicated before Sara died, let alone after. She was a good mother, but she was so invested in her work that it was usually Quentin who did the day to day looking after, despite also rising through the police ranks in a city too wrought with crime.

Sara knew that her mom and her dad, who were by all accounts a happy, healthy couple, got divorced a year or so after she arrived in Nanda Parbat.

They didn’t have much technology there - barely any at all, the halls were lit by wall torches - but there was, very occasionally, training courses that required it.

The sciences were one of them. There was an entire lab hidden beneath the city, but Sara, as an assassin first and foremost, rarely went there. Inside, they did have computers, where hackers used the web to locate targets for the Demon, and on special occasions Sara had access to it.

So she kept tabs on her family the only way that she could, as secretly as she could, using what she could to erase any record of her findings. She kept up with everything that might be documented, like Laurel’s graduation, her Dad’s promotion, and their parent’s divorce.

Marriages rarely survive when a child is lost.

Laurel doesn’t say anything at first. Sin looks across the table at Sara with a look that would have been pity if she didn’t know better, and Sara smiles back at her, trying to reassure.

At her side, Sara feels Ava’s hand graze her wrist, reaching for her. Sara lets their fingers intertwine, focusing on the sensation to keep herself steady.

Laurel looks between them, first at Sara, and then Ava, and then back to Sara again. A frown creases her forehead, but before she can say anything, their server approaches them.

“What can I get you ladies to drink?” She asks. Laurel and Sara order the same red wine, Ava orders rosé, and Sin orders tea.

When she comes back, the girls order their food. It’s still awkward around the table. Their earlier conversation was left unfinished, but no one seems to know where to begin on what is obviously a sensitive topic.

Sin breaks the silence. “Did you try a lot of different food while you were away?” 

Sara nods. “Yeah, I did. I like momos a lot - they’re like dumplings, kind of.” The League had a huge mess hall with lots of choices and lots of people, which was always stressful, but in her later years she spent a lot of time in Nyssa’s quarters. 

Despite the horrors of that place, those memories were wonderful. Happy, even, as strange as it is.

They eat in silence for the next few minutes, and then Sin says, “I’m not five, you know. You don’t have to hide things from me. I think - I mean, I don’t know, but - it sounds like these are things that need to be said.”

Laurel takes a breath. “I just think you should talk to her,” she says.

“Dad and I, we tried to move on, after a while. But she never did. She started seeing you where you weren’t there, in pictures of strangers and things like that. She was convinced you would turn up, somehow.”

She looks pensive for a moment, and then adds, “And...I guess she was right.”

Sara isn’t sure what to do with this information. Part of her wants to reach out, and provide the answers she knows her mother must be seeking, but she fears the attention and the endless questions from a woman she knows won’t understand.

“She thought she found a picture of you in China,” Laurel says.

“I visited it sometimes.” It’s scary, at first, but she pushes through. The more they talk, the more the tension between them all seems to break, like ice cracking under a warm sun. 

Sin steals a sip of Ava’s drink while Ava is busy watching Sara. Sara pretends not to notice.

“Did you like it there?” Ava asks.

Sara nods. “It’s nice. It’s busy, though, in the city. I never stayed for long.”

“You have a bad habit of doing that, apparently,” Laurel says. It’s true, but she’s teasing. Sara rolls her eyes.

Sin speaks up from her corner. “Are you gonna stick around now?”

That was the question everyone wanted answered, wasn’t it? Was she going to stay here? It was something that had been on Sara’s mind ever since she came home. Could she stay here? Should she stay here?

At first, the answer was a very strong no. But the more she stays, roots snake into the ground, a new one for every person who knows. At first, it was just Sin, and then came Ava, Laurel, and her father. Every time, she thought they wouldn’t want her. And every time, she was wrong.

And now, the desire to stay went beyond her selfish wants. The idea of leaving Ava all alone in that house was somehow wretched. She would be lost without her, and Sara, without her steadfast guidance, would be lost too.

Ava is looking at her now, one eyebrow raised in curiosity, but there’s something more serious on her face that Sara can’t immediately place.

“Yeah,” Sara says, “I think I will.”

Sin and Laurel share a look, but before Sara can ask what exactly that look is, and why they keep doing that, their waitress comes back to take their order. Ava and Laurel had both decided what they wanted several minutes ago; Sin and Sara pick the first thing that looks good.

After that, the conversation is easy. Sara feels a weight lift off her chest. They talk about simple things, like Laurel’s worst clients, or Sin’s favorite dogs at the animal shelter.

Ava tells them about some of the places she’s gone, without revealing the aspect of time travel. Only Sara knows. There’s an unspoken agreement between them all, that it’s okay for Laurel to not know exactly what happened to Sara, as long as she is safe now, and that Sara won’t die if she shares what she’s ready to about those years.

It’s the little things - the gross mystery meat that the mess hall served every weekend, her new favorite movie that “a friend” showed to her - that she can say. Slowly, between bites of food and sips of wine, they start to feel connected again.

Laurel tells her the most memorable things about grad school. She leaves out the nights she spent holed up in her dorm room, crying her eyes out because her sister and her boyfriend were dead.

Sin tells them about her slam poetry club. They have a showcase coming up in a few weeks. It’s tiny - just her and her friends, usually, and any friends her friends can get to come along. They all agree to go.

After dinner, Sara and Laurel debate the best place to go shopping. Laurel insists they visit the bigger stores, where they’ll have more options, and Ava agrees. Sara, accepting defeat, tags along, making sure Sin isn’t left behind. They change back into normal clothes in the bathroom at the tavern.

All the stores look exactly the same. Inside, skinny fluorescent beams reflect against shiny white tile that’s littered with black streaks from shopping cart wheels. There’s rows of cash registers to their left and endless rows of merchandise beyond that.

This is one thing that Sara didn’t miss. These warehouses have a way of blocking out the sun, so the whole world narrows to blinding light and crowded isles. It feels like a cage. She much prefers tiny little family owned shops that are run by someone who doesn’t make a hundred million dollars a year.

Sin gets a cart from the corral and rides it to them. “Where should we start?”

“I don’t know,” Ava says. “It’s a decent sized house.” She pulls up the blueprints on her phone to show them what’s inside. In hindsight, they probably should have visited the house first, but they were here now.

At first, they start with the kitchen, off to find a tablecloth and things to put on it, but as they go up and down the isles they split into groups, running off to find this or that or pulling things that they like off the shelves.

Sin has a weirdly specific knack for finding obscure items. Eventually, she ends up looking for things for her guest room, which Ava calls the kid’s guest room, because she doesn’t want her to have to sacrifice her pride.

Ava looks for bedding in the laundry aisle while Sara and Laurel head to the paint section.

“What color should the dressers be?” Laurel asks, pushing the cart up the aisle. “Should we go for a darker brown or a lighter brown?”

“Ew,” Sara wrinkles her nose, “does it have to be brown? Why can’t it be a fun color?”

“We’re not having a pink dresser.”

“Gross, not pink,” Sara says, “but maybe like, blue, or something.”

“No, we’re not doing that either,” Laurel says. She sounds like their mother.

“Can we get a blue bedspread then?”

She considers that for a moment. “What shade of blue?”

“Like, baby blueish.”

Laurel narrows her eyes. “Fine. But we’re having a regular colored dresser. What color would look good? What color are the floors?”

“Um…” Sara thinks on it. “I’m not sure. Ava’s are just regular brown. I never actually went in the other bedrooms.”

“Regular brown means absolutely nothing to me,” Laurel says, putting her hands on her hips.

“Well, I don’t know, it’s just like...regular brown,” Sara repeats. “It’s not that red but it’s not chocolate colored. Medium colored. Like Oliver’s room,” she remembers.

“What’s your deal with Ava anyway?”

“What do you mean?” Sara looks on the other side of the isle for something that might be considered a normal dresser color.

“Are you guys dating?”

“What?” Sara puts down the beige tone in her hand. “No. We’re not dating. Why would you ask that?”

“I was just wondering,” Laurel explains, backpedaling. 

“We’re not dating,” Sara insists. 

“Okay,” she says, “I believe you.” 

Sara doesn’t say anything, and Laurel doesn’t either. It isn’t that strange of a question, but it does make Sara feel strange. Really strange. She hates it. After a few minutes, Laurel shows her a can.

“Like this sort of color?” She asks, holding up the latte esque furniture paint.

Sara nods. “Yeah, that matches, I think.” She doesn’t want to talk anymore.

They put a couple cans in the cart and carry on. Sara is more unsettled by Laurel’s question than she should be, but she’s too distracted to figure out why. Laurel doesn’t ask any more personal questions.

Sara finds a bed set with thick and thin stripes in white, gray, and a soft, dull blue. Laurel picks up enough plants to fill all the empty shelves in the room - there wasn’t enough light for them to grow where Sara used to live.

There’s other things, like rugs, pillows, and hangers. It’s mostly a matter of finding colors that match, only because it annoys Laurel if they don’t. When they meet up with the other two again, Sin has a cart full of black, white, and red things, and Ava’s is mostly gray and gold.

The only reason it all fits in the car is because Ava’s is so unreasonably massive. The girls decorate by sections, and it doesn’t take nearly as long as Sara expects it to; hanging curtains, laying rugs, and painting furniture goes fast when you have four people who are all looking for something to do.

Sara still feels weird about what Laurel said, and is ignoring it. Laurel feels weird about asking, Ava feels weird because Sara’s being weird, and Sin has figured out by now that no one else is in much of a mood for conversation.

So, by the time sunset, dinner, and final coats of paint have come and gone, everything is pretty much done.

“Do you two want to stay the night?” Ava asks. “Test out the beds?”

“Sure,” Sin says. “Cool.”

“I might as well. It is Friday,” Laurel agrees. “Are you coming, Sara? The bed is big enough for both of us.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute. I left some of my stuff in Ava’s room.” That was true, but she also just needed a moment to herself, somewhere that was familiar.

While Ava gets ready for bed, Sara balls her new clothes up and tucks them into their bags. Once Ava has finished, she helps.

“Are you ok? Did Laurel say something weird?” She asks.

“No,” Sara says. “Well, maybe. She asked me if we were dating.”

“Oh. That’s not that weird.” Ava pulls a shirt back out of the bag so she can fold it properly.

“You think?”

“Well, I just meant, we spend a lot of time together. All of our time together, really. Your clothes are on my bed. I’m not saying that we are, obviously, I’m just saying that I can see how someone who doesn’t know us very well could think that.”

“But that’s your job,” Sara ponders.

“No one else knows that, expect for the bureau,” Ava reminds her. “Really, it’s just between us.”

Sara puts a sweatshirt away. “Just between us?”

“Yeah,” Ava says. Sara can feel her eyes on her, but she takes her time, smoothing out the wrinkles, before she looks up.

“Is there, maybe, something else? Between us?”

Ava looks a bit flushed, her blue eyes searching Sara’s face, her hair, her lips, and Sara feels her phone buzz in her back pocket. 

She pulls it out to check who it is, on reflex, not planning on ruining her chance again, but she doesn’t need to look long, because it’s a number she would recognize anywhere. What little color she has drains from her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know who it is. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
